Real Plastic Trees
by HotMessica
Summary: In the pages of every high school yearbook, there is a girl that everyone thinks they know. I'm her, and sometimes, I don't even know myself. But he does. A/H
1. Chapter 1  Fake Plastic Trees

Chapter 1 - Fake Plastic Trees

I've always been told that I could have whatever I want. Growing up, it was repeated to me time and time again. The statement was a possibility, the promise of a future that wasn't clear yet, but seemed so big to little me.

I still remember one of the first times my father said those words to me.

Even from a young age, I knew we were better off than most. My dad's real estate development company (which had been my grandpa's company before that) was building an upscale neighborhood at the edge of town. Tall brick walls sat on either side of the paved lane that led into the area, protecting the massive cookie-cutter homes behind them. It practically screamed exclusivity, which now that I'm older seems kind of laughable and unnecessary in a town like Forks.

The project was huge and time-consuming, and I remember my dad not being around much then. Just after my fifth birthday, my parents drove me through those gates in our Mercedes, wound through the streets that were in varying stages of construction, until we turned one last time.

The street was perfect. There were only four houses - huge homes with stone columns and winding driveways. They looked like the castles I'd seen in the books my mom read to me at night, filled with princesses and princes. And while the house we lived in at the time wasn't small by any means, it was nothing like this.

My eyes zoomed in on a white house, the biggest of them all. It was different, with brick details and a beautiful, wide porch that went from one end of the house to the garage. It looked so special to me at the time.

"Daddy, can we have that one?" I'd asked, because I'd never asked for anything and not gotten it. I didn't know at the time that asking for a house was beyond ridiculous.

"Baby," he'd said, turning in his seat with a wide smile. "You can have whatever you want."

I found out later they'd picked out that house beforehand, but in my mind, I was the one who chose it. I got what I wanted. I got a lot of things. I was an only child, doted on because I was the only one my parents were able to have. I was their possibility, their future.

But now I know, after seventeen years of this, that there's a fine print to that statement. There are terms and conditions to the life they've given me. There are rules and expectations. And it hasn't just been my parents putting them on me, or my friends. I can admit now that I've put them on myself, too.

I've followed them so closely all of my life without questioning. I did so gladly, because I didn't know there was any other way. For the longest time, I didn't know that there was more I wanted.

Now I do.

It's been festering for a while, this feeling. I'm not sure when it started - I can't pinpoint an exact date, a moment where I thought, "this is it?" I just know that throughout the summer, it's gotten louder and louder in my head. The voice, the truth, has been screaming at me. It's hard to hear anything else now. It's like looking at one of my photos, thinking I've captured something perfect at first. And then when I look closer, I see that it's slightly out of focus or some people have their eyes closed.

I do some of my deepest thinking, some of my best decision-making in the shower, but today the water pouring down on my head hasn't brought me to any immediate conclusions. Instead, unease churns, mixing around in my entire being.

I'm not asking for my life to be perfect. I know firsthand how impossible that is. It's an illusion. I've been given everything, but it's come at a price, and now all I want is for my life to be mine. It's been everyone else's for too long.

I step out of the shower and pull a fluffy white towel from its rack before moving to the mirror. Steam clings to the glass, a thick film of condensation that I wipe away with the flat of my hand. Mom's told me time and time again not to do it, that I'll leave fingerprints, but I like making my mark. It's the only place I do lately. Besides, it's the fastest way to get the steam off and tonight I need to see myself.

Maybe even find myself again.

I don't know who I am anymore, not really. I have my roles: the straight-A student. The popular girl. The rich girl. Jessica Stanley and Lauren Mallory's best friend. Royce King, Jr.'s girlfriend. According to some, the bitch. They don't take the time to find out that I'm really reserved, sometimes even shy, when it comes to people I don't know.

In their eyes, I'm the girl who gets everything and wants for nothing. The girl who strives to be everything her parents want her to be.

These days, I'm the girl who succeeds at making everyone happy.

Everyone but myself, that is.

My parents have always stressed the importance of close friends, good grades and proper behavior. We stayed within the close-knit confines of our community, which worked for me because those were the people I knew. It was comfortable, a life I fell into easily. I pushed myself to excel academically. Grade school was easy in every respect. Even then, my friends and I knew we were the leaders of the pack. We were the ones who had our ears pierced first, wore clothes from the cutest boutiques, were the first to kiss the boys on the playground (actually, Lauren took _that _title). Middle school was the same. High school has been, too; we've stayed together, Jess and Lauren and I. I've gotten exceptional grades, have stayed at the top of my class, worn all the right clothes and dated the right boy. We skate through life, me and my friends.

We always have.

My parents have always said that they want me to have more than they did. But they have _so _much, so is that even possible?

Which brings me back to the voice in my head that asks me this: _Is this it? _Or is there more to life? More outside these walls I've subconsciously built up around myself all of these years?

God, I hope so.

Sometimes I get a taste of how good it is to do something simply because _I _want to do it. Not because my parents require it (excellent grades, college prep courses) or Jess and Lauren drag me to it (weekend parties, football games) or Roy – he refuses to go by Royce – wants it (anything at this point.) There are things that have nothing to do with the expectations everyone has, the rules I've enforced upon myself.

I discovered photography my freshman year. My dad owned an old Nikon, which was hidden away in a box with some random stuff from his days at Vanderbilt (_summa cum laude_; he loves to remind me). I was bored, so I pulled out the yellowed manual and spent the rest of the rainy afternoon reading about the camera. The more I read, the more engrossed I became. I wanted to make sure I did everything right, so I absorbed every word. I didn't touch the camera until I knew exactly what I needed to do.

My mom took me to get film that week. I started taking pictures immediately and fell in love just as fast. I'd begged my parents to let me take a photography class, but my schedule was already full that year. And the year after that. And the year after that. I knew it was just their way of keeping me focused on academics, but it still burned. They tried to soothe it a bit by buying me a top-of-the-line digital camera. I've kept photography up on the side since then, finding time to sneak it in when and where I can because it's what gives me the most joy.

When I have my camera up to my eye or when I'm doing volunteer work at the local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution (I can call Bingo numbers like no one's business), I'm real. When I'm not doing that, I feel like I'm just here. I'm playing my role, but not understanding my part. I don't know why I'm even doing it anymore.

I focus my attention back to the mirror. Already the steam is slowly beginning to creep back, filling in where I'm able to see myself clearly, this reflection of my seventeen-year- old self. There's a weariness that makes my eyes heavy, in feeling if not in appearance.

No one else sees _this _girl but me. They're too busy looking at the outer shell. I hastily lean forward and wipe my hand through the wetness again, desperate to find myself in there.

Me. More than my last name, who my parents are, who my friends are, the car I drive. _Me._

The steam hovers around me, spreading out and up. As quickly as I see _her_, my reflection is fogged again.

I reach for the wall, flipping on the fan. I can hear my mom, mentally warning me about how steam ruins paint. She had an interior designer come in from Seattle a few years ago to completely redo the house, fancy paint included (there is such a thing). It cost an arm and a leg, making her even more anal about keeping everything in the house perfect.

As the mirror defogs I see myself clearly again. My hair drips around my shoulders and down my back. My face is fresh, scrubbed free of makeup. I lean forward and do my daily inspection, making sure my eyebrows are properly plucked and there aren't any too-visible blemishes or clogged pores. I try out a smile, but it's fake and painful, so I run a finger down my nose where it's gone pink from the beach.

School started this week and by mid-week, Lauren was complaining about how much work she had.

"We don't get to skate by just because we're seniors, Mallo," I reminded her as we strolled down the hallway, swollen with students. She wasn't the one taking as many AP classes as humanly possible.

But she just rolled her eyes, as she was apt to do when she thought I was being too serious (which was often), and gave me a sideways look. "Really? You couldn't even wait a week before you turned into Nerdalie? Your dedication to homework this early in the year is evidence that you need to blow off some steam."

I'm not sure how blowing off steam equaled time at the beach, but I stashed my camera in my tote bag next to a beach towel after school today anyway. We spent the entire afternoon there; me, Jess, Lauren, along with Tyler, Mike and Roy (whom we've known forever and started dating along the way). I watched from the sidelines, drawing absently in the sand as Jess and Lauren ran around at the water's edge, their jeans rolled up to their knees. Tyler and Mike kept picking them up, swinging them by their waists and pretending to throw them in. Thankfully, Roy was out in the water (he thinks he can surf) so I was surrounded by strangers and the sound of crashing waves and seagulls.

I felt more like myself than I had in a while.

The family next to us was gone by dusk, leaving behind a large patch of flattened sand and a few sandwich crusts. The seagulls swooped, not even waiting until they were gone before they started scavenging for food. Usually the birds scared me, dive-bombing with no general regard for personal space. Today, though, I realized they were just doing their thing. I could respect that. The waning light reflected off their feathers, turning them silver in the fading light.

I'd grabbed my camera, playing with the settings before lying down on a blanket so I could see the birds on their level. A few circled overhead and I angled my body up, snapping a picture of them before going back to the ones on the sand. Just when I'd found the shot I wanted, a foot disrupted the scene. The birds jumped, slightly daunted, but not deterred.

"Fucking rats with wings," Roy said. He yanked the cord on his full bodysuit, shooing them away with his feet. He was kicking up sand and very nearly kicking _them_in the process. If birds could glare, I'm pretty sure they did before grabbing the last crumbs and scattering.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I'd replied, pissed that he messed up my picture and even more so that he'd nearly kicked an animal.

He rolled his eyes as he flopped down next to me on the blanket, kicking sand up again, almost getting my lens. Thankfully I had the reflexes to move the camera to the side just in time, so it hit my shoulder instead. "Why the hell would you want a picture of them anyway? It's a waste of film."

_It's a fucking digital, asshole._

Of course, I couldn't say that. He was my boyfriend, after all. I had a sneaking suspicion he knew my feelings had been changing and fading over the past few months; I hadn't ever verbalized anything that harshly. The worst I could be was indifferent, which he seemed content to ignore.

We were really good at pretending.

Roy's hand found my hair, caressing it in a way that I'm sure he thought gave the illusion of endearment, but it didn't feel that way. It felt possessive, like everything else he did. I wanted nothing more than to bat his hand away. To get away from him. I sat up and put my camera in its case, grateful for a reason to shift to the far side of the blanket. Scanning the shoreline, I looked for our friends, needing a distraction, but they were gone.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that they'd all scattered, too - under the boardwalk, to cars. To be alone.

There was a strange welling of panic in my chest when I realized that Roy and I were alone. It wasn't like we'd never been alone before, because there'd been countless moments, hours, nights. There had also been countless moments, hours, nights over the past three years where I hadn't wanted to be alone with him.

But I'd never wanted to run. And right then, sitting on that blanket with him looking at me in that cool, appraising way, as though I _belonged_ to him, that made me want to get as far away from him as possible. I didn't want to be alone with him. I didn't want _him_. I didn't want to feel like this anymore, like I needed to escape. He was the biggest symptom of my discontent, the biggest lie I'd been living. I didn't want that anymore.

Thinking that had lifted the burden a bit, made it a little easier to breathe. I must have been smiling, or at least looking less standoffish, because Roy squinted at me, using a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "You wanna..."

No. No, I didn't _wanna._

I sigh as I towel-dry my hair, remembering how I'd used the "that time of the month" excuse with him, something I'd done just a week ago. Apparently Roy didn't really keep track, which worked out well for me. But this relationship_ wasn't_ working out, not anymore (had it ever?). For whatever reason, today had been the last straw. I was done. I knew that I was going to have to be the one to take the bull by the horns and end it.

And I'm going to end it tonight. Right now.

After I spritz on the conditioning spray my mom insists will give me stronger hair follicles, which is imperative for whatever reason, I comb out my hair slowly and silently count the strokes.

Mrs. Jenks, one of the regular ladies at Bingo, told me once that one hundred brush strokes is the magic number for shiny hair. I'm pretty sure her information is outdated, but I think of it every time I brush my hair now. And then inevitably I think of the look on her face when I gave her a picture I'd taken a few months back. It was of her and one of her granddaughters, snapped after Bingo one day when the community room had pretty much emptied out. I'd stayed behind to help put away the equipment and noticed them sitting there, heads bent close, inspecting her bingo cards and laughing. It was one of those moments I loved capturing. It was something that seemed insignificant at the time, but when captured became somehow important, special. And I knew when I showed it to Mrs. Jenks that she really appreciated it. The warmth of her smile went straight to my chest.

I cross the threshold into my bedroom, stopping at my dresser. I pull on lounge pants and a tank top and then set my iPod on its docking station, scrolling to Radiohead. It seems like it's going to be that kind of night.

My phone sits in the middle of my bed. I perch next to it, staring down at the black screen.

I'll call Roy in ten minutes. I'll tell him we need to talk, that he needs to come over. I'm sure he's still with Mike and Tyler, probably fucking around on Mike's PlayStation, and for a second, I feel bad that I'll be pulling him away from them. But it's short-lived. I have to do this. I _want _to do this.

Even though the thought of telling Roy it's over makes my stomach roll nervously, it also makes me feel powerful. Everything in my life has been _just so _for so long. I've done everything that's expected of me, not least of all dating Roy. His parents are friends with mine, and have been for as long as I can remember. I guess I could have had my pick of any guy, but he made the most sense when we got together. We'd been in the same circle since Montessori, having hung out with all the same people. We had the same upbringing and lived such similar lives. He was good-looking and charming in a cold sort of way, but I could identify with that. I thought he was misunderstood, just like me. We had all of those things in common and when I was younger, I thought that was really all that mattered. I existed in such a small world.

Now I know how wrong I was.

I flop back onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking about what I'm about to do. This is going to affect so much more than my relationship with Roy. It will bleed out into our friendships, making things awkward. I've given no indication that I've been feeling this way, so I know it'll shock Jess and Lauren.

I don't even know how _Roy_ will react. It almost makes me sick thinking about it, but the thought of not breaking up with him is worse.

"What the hell am I doing here?" I sing along to the music under my breath, my hand blindly reaching for my phone. "I don't belong here. She's running out the door, she's running out."

Scrolling through my contacts list, I scan every name, thinking about whom I could call to talk this through before I do it. Usually all life decisions, major _and _minor, involve the input of Jess and Lauren, but lately I've felt this inexplicable distance from them. They seem so happy, so content in their relationships, in their skin. They truly seem to enjoy everything we're doing, the way we're living, and if they're not, they've given no indication otherwise. They're always so much more involved than I am, planning the parties, the outings, reveling in their popularity. They seem to thrive on it all. At this point, I'm just along for the ride, and barely.

I'm not sure they'll understand my need for change. What's worse is I think they might try to talk me out of it, because we're supposed to _be _with these boys. It's how it's always been, the six of us together. Even when we weren't dating Roy, Mike and Tyler, we always sat together at lunch, flirted at camp, went to the movies together. It worked out so well, each of us a matching pair. Well, it did for the two of them. I've always been the shy one, the quiet one. So naturally, when Roy asked me out freshman year, I shyly said yes (at the coaxing of Jess and Lauren).

I put my phone back down on the bed, the call for support unmade. This is what I can do to make things better for myself. They'll understand that.

I'll tell them tomorrow, after it's done and there's no going back.

My iPod shuffles to "Fake Plastic Trees." It's as if it knows that I'm in this sort of mood - where I'm tired and worn out, convinced that my best is never good enough.

I'm stuck.

That's the problem with being stuck, getting complacent. You don't even realize that you are, how you came to be that way, until you're already there.

Something has to change. It's my senior year, an important one in establishing who I am and what I want to become. I'm not even sure I know what _that _is. I just know that I don't want to be fake anymore.

I want to be real.

I pick up my phone yet again, determined this time. I know that he's not going to want to hear what I'm going to say. But I'll say it and I'll be strong and not back down.

I text Roy. _Come over._

Five minutes go by. Ten. Fifteen. While I wait, I think about changing my clothes, but I'm comfortable like this, so I stay put, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. What would I change into, anyway? A break-up outfit? Come to think of it, I'm sure one of the etiquette books sitting on the bookshelf in the study would be able to help me with that. If I cared, that is.

Finally, twenty three minutes later, I hear back from Roy. _I'm at Mike's. Can it wait until later?_

Can it wait? Can I wait?

_No._

He responds with, _Fine._

I can almost hear him cursing. Mike lives a few blocks away and even though Tyler and Roy have equally huge houses, they're usually chilling at his. I know it'll only take Roy a few minutes to get over here, whether he's walking or driving.

I pace in front of my bedroom window for almost fifteen minutes, waiting for him to show up. My heart races the whole time, a mixture of nerves, anticipation and irritation. He's obviously taking his sweet time on purpose. A car finally turns the corner, its headlights cutting through the dark night and I'm dizzy for a second. The reality of what I'm about to do hits me and I take a deep, steadying breath before rushing down the stairs to intercept Roy outside. The last thing I want is him coming in and my parents getting wind of what's happening.

I make it halfway across the foyer before my dad's voice drifts in from the living room.

"Rosalie? Where are you going?"

I stop short, one ear trained on the engine idling outside. "Roy stopped by really quick. I just...uh, need to give him something."

"It's a school night, honey, and you were out all afternoon," my mom reminds me.

As if I wasn't aware of my whereabouts.

I look up at the ceiling, heaving a deep sigh that I hope neither of my parents hear. They're not big on sighs. Or eye rolling. Or really anything that shows sarcasm in response to them. "It'll just take a minute, Mom. I'll be right back."

I'm out the front door, shutting it behind me before she or my dad can argue.

My bare feet slap against the sidewalk as I make my way quickly to the driveway.

Roy's waiting for me.

He's standing in front of his car, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his soccer team sweatshirt. Even in the darkness, I can see his carefully blank expression. I've seen that face a lot, usually when his dad is laying into him.

It makes me wonder if he knows. I also wonder if that indifference will melt away when I tell him what he's been called over here for.

"What's up?" he asks, leaning back against the hood of his car.

I shiver, both out of nervousness and because in my haste to get out here I forgot to put on a sweatshirt.

"We need to talk."

"About?"

"About..." He's staring at me, not even blinking, and I hesitate, feeling my confidence waver. God, I hope I know what the hell I'm doing here.

Roy pushes himself off his car and takes a step toward me, irritation coloring his face. I know that expression well. He gets like this when I'm not doing what he wants. "Listen, Mike's got our game on pause, so -"

"I'm breaking up with you."

The words tumble out of my mouth, one on top of the other, because if I don't say it now, I might not say it at all. And I know as soon as I _do _say it that it's right, even though my heart is racing and my palms are sweating and I have that dizzy, surreal feeling again. My head is too heavy and way too light at the same time.

Roy doesn't say anything for a long time. Or maybe it's just a few seconds. It feels like an eternity regardless, and I just stand there, freezing, waiting.

"I'm sorry," I say in a low voice, even though I'm not. Not at all.

"You're sorry?" One side of his mouth quirks up at me, but he doesn't move, like he expects me to say something different. When I don't, he blinks and then he's not smiling at all. "What the fuck, Rosalie?"

His voice is quiet, like it always is. He rarely raises it. He's so careful not to be like Royce Senior, who has this voice that rattles your bones. It doesn't matter if he's yelling - which is often, at least in Roy's case - or simply talking. He demands attention.

His dad's an insufferable dick, and as much as Roy doesn't want to be like him, as hard as he tries to do the exact opposite, he's never as far away from his dad as he wants to be.

"I..." I trail off. I don't know what to say after I've told him that I don't want to be with him anymore. How do you explain that? Does he even want to hear why?

"You _what?_"

"I can't do this anymore," I say quietly.

"We had a plan." He stares at me, waiting for me to say something. When I don't, he shakes his head and looks past me, muttering, "Goddamn it."

"What was the plan, Roy? You didn't bother to fill _me _in on that, although that's nothing new. You do what you want, regardless of anyone or anything."

He blinks slowly, like I'm stupid for not simply _knowing_. Like he's annoyed that he has to tell me. "This is our last year of high school. This is when we're supposed to be rounding everything out, finishing this shit at the top and then going to college together." My mouth falls open, both in shock and because I want to correct him. We haven't even talked about colleges, much less going _together_. The idea of being tied to him like that makes me itchy. He keeps going, oblivious to my reaction, gaining traction. "I mean, shit, Rosalie. You were acting different and sort of distant this summer, but come on. I was figuring you'd get over it. You're doing this _now_?"

I snap. It's the expectant tone that sets me off. "I'm sorry, did you want me to wait, Roy? Is this an inconvenient time for you? If not now, when? I mean, what's the point of -"

The rough purr of a car's engine turning onto the street stops me. I snap my mouth shut and look past Roy, searching for more to say but grateful for the distraction. This is too much, too heavy and emotional for something I thought would be none of those things. Easier.

_Say what you need to say and get it done, Rosalie_.

Roy looks over his shoulder just as the car passes by. Edward Cullen is in the passenger seat. Emmett McCarty is behind the wheel. The car slows down almost infinitesimally and my heart stops for a second when Emmett and my eyes meet. I look away immediately, crossing my arms over my chest. My gaze hops to Edward and I try to smile - _nothing to see here, move along please please please _- but I'm sure it's more of a pained grimace. It's obvious what's happening, the girl standing barefoot in her driveway with her very soon-to-be ex-boyfriend scowling in front of his car, arms crossed.

It's too dark to gauge their reactions and besides, they're nearly past us now. Part of me is relieved, the other part curious. I don't have time to think about it, or them, though. They continue on down the street, the Jeep turning toward the Cullens' house. The red tail lights are all that's visible before they disappear completely.

Roy snorts and turns back to me. My heart is still hammering in my chest and I lay my hand over it, wrapping the other around my waist. "You're making a mistake, you know. You don't even know what you're ruining right now."

"What am I ruining? What do we even have to ruin?"

_Nothing_. I want to say it so badly, but I bite my lip instead.

"Oh, I don't know, how about three fucking years? How about I'm the only one who can give you what you want? What you're used to?" He flings his arm toward the house behind me, at the BMW he's standing in front of, the fancy cars in the driveway.

He's thinking of things. The house he would get me with the money he'd be making thanks to the prestigious education he's sure to get because it's what's expected of _him_. The nice cars and the beautiful clothes. That's what matters to him, though. What he thinks matters to me. What he thinks should matter to _us._

I don't want those things. Because getting those things would mean giving more important things up. Like my happiness. I'm tired of bargaining with it.

"Really? Is that what you see for us? Because I have to be honest, maybe if you told me that when we were younger I would have bought into it. But I need more than that now. We're not happy anymore. We're not even in this relationship for us, Roy. We're in it because we're supposed to be." He rolls his eyes, juggling his keys from one hand to the other, his movements jerky and agitated. I step closer and he stands up straight. "Come on, I can't be the only one feeling this."

Roy turns away, clearly done with the conversation."Whatever." He tosses the word over his shoulder as he starts toward the driver's side.

He obviously wasn't expecting this. Maybe he just thought I wouldn't ever say anything. But I refuse to think the idea that we aren't good for each other didn't cross his mind, too. While the final decision of breaking up only just came to me today, it's been a long time coming. We've been distant for months, and we've never been the way Jess and Mike are, or even Lauren and Tyler. There's never been a lot of affection, no late-night phone calls or sharing of feelings. No depth, just show.

Roy's face is composed - practiced indifference - and again I'm reminded of his father. That exact expression is what I've seen from him more often than not, and one of the many reasons I'm pulling away. This isn't love. I'm not even sure it's _like _at this point.

"I'm going back to Mike's."

"Fine." I try to think of something more to say but there's nothing.

He doesn't say anything more. He just gets back in his car and peels out of the driveway, the soccer ball that hangs from his rear-view mirror bouncing around at the sharp motions. I make my way back into the house, quietly closing the door behind me so that I can slip up the steps without having to talk to my parents.

Once I get up to my room, I press play on my iPod again and flop back down on my bed. Thom Yorke picks up where he left off. I stare up at the ceiling, waiting to feel different. Waiting to be sad or relieved or _something_.

But I don't.

I'm not sure how long I lay there, staring at the ceiling and waiting. For what, I don't know. Eventually my phone buzzes. I look at it, thinking maybe it's Jess or Lauren checking in. Maybe Mike or Tyler let them know what happened, because obviously Roy had to say something to them when he returned to their paused game.

It's a text from Roy instead. _Told Mike and Tyler that I'm thinking about breaking up with you._

_He's_ thinking about breaking up with _me_? That's the way he's going to play it? I should've known. Any way for him to save face, trying to be the breaker instead of the breakee.

Not that it matters. No matter who did it, we were already broken.

I focus on the ceiling and breathe deeply, searching for inner peace. But instead of feeling better, there is nothing.

_You can have whatever you want_. The words echo through my mind to the melody of the music that drifts around the room. It's a constant loop, taunting me.

I want something different. I just don't know how to get it.

* * *

><p>AN - Throughout our time in the fandom, we've written solo and with others (H, Lore, Bec - we love you), along with providing support and snuggles. Two years and many stories later, we decided to give storytelling together a go.

This is the result. It's almost completely written and we'll be updating a couple of times a week. And since it's pre-written, we have teasers for those who are interested! Just give us a shout (review, twitter, tumblr, email, smoke signal, Morse code).

It takes a village to write a story (or is that raise a child? Hmmm...), so thanks to ours! AccioBourbon, H, ThatIsRiddik, and Jugsterbunny for their eagle eyes. Bec writes our summaries because we boss her around and she does what we tell her. Lore's the wind beneath our wings.

See you later (this week), alligators!


	2. Chapter 2 Comfortably Numb

Chapter 2 - Comfortably Numb

I don't notice Lauren's note until it hits me in the cheek. I jump, my desk screeching against the linoleum, an ear-shattering shriek that makes the back of my neck prickle. My eyes fly up to the front of the classroom where Mr. Berty is droning on mindlessly. He loves the sound of his own voice so much that he's either ignoring the disruption or didn't hear it in the first place. There are giggles, one of which I recognize as Jess', but I'm otherwise ignored.

I turn to Lauren and hold up the note, giving her a pointed look. "Subtle," I mouth.

"Oops?" she mouths back, but her slender shoulders shake with quiet laughter.

The note is shaped like a crane, a leftover and mostly useless talent from our summers at Camp Kalaloch, where the only thing Lauren learned was how to make origami animals and later, tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue.

The latter is a party trick she busts out on the regular, and yet she acts all indignant every time Tyler tells her he has a stem she can suck on.

I know for a fact Lauren revels in his attention, though. She and Tyler have always antagonized each other like that. He makes some sexual comment and she calls him an idiot and then the next thing you know, they're making out. They make it seem shallow, but I've seen the way she looks at him. Hell, I've seen the way he looks at _her_. His mouth may say one thing, but his eyes tell another story entirely.

If a guy looked at me like that...

_Someone has_.

The thought is there before I can stop it. I'd always stopped it before, because that someone isn't Roy.

I mentally scramble, slamming the theoretical door in my mind where those kind of thoughts are kept safe. But I still visualize a pair of brilliant blue eyes, and when I turn my head slightly, just barely, I see them - _him_. Emmett's looking right at me, one side of his mouth pulled up. The other side lifts as our eyes meet, and I whirl back around, my heart pounding hard against my ribs. The sensation jars me, as it always does when I see him. I've never had that rush with Roy, not even at the beginning. I've never had it with _anyone_. It shakes me that I have it with someone I don't even talk to.

I can feel the weight of Emmett's gaze on me and I have to physically shake my head to try to get rid of the sensation, to try to forget how clear and bright his eyes are. It doesn't work. I'm not sure I _want _it to.

Roy's eyes are dark, dark brown. I could never make out the pupil from the iris, which always bothered me for some reason, especially at the end. In those last few months, when things really started getting bad, I tried to search for some kind of positive emotion in them. I'd keep my eyes open until just before our lips met, trying to make out the borders. Usually he'd clamp them shut when his face tilted toward mine. I didn't have a chance to find anything there, and when we weren't kissing, we weren't close enough for me to see anything but blackness.

The paper rustles noisily as I unfold the note. Someone shifts in my peripheral. Bella Swan, sitting right in front of Edward, who's next to Emmett. Edward's fingers are curled over the back of her desk, playing with a strand of her hair. When we make eye contact she gives me a small smile, then goes back to her book. I turn my attention back to Lauren's note.

_Fiesta at Newton's tonight. You, me, Stan. Do it up?_

_You have to say yes, Posie._

I resist the urge to groan. We've been partying all summer, hanging out at Tyler's or Roy's or Mike's. Mostly at Mike's, because the Newtons have an impressive stash of alcohol and last spring built a grotto and a water slide to complement their heated pool. The stupid thing shocks my ass every time I slide down, but the guys are obsessed with it. Most important, at least to everyone else, is the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Newton travel all the time. They're busy expanding Newton's Olympic Outfitters down through Oregon and California.

I'd like nothing more than to say no to the invite tonight. Beyond being partied out, the whole Roy thing looms over my head like a black cloud. I still haven't told Lauren and Jess that we broke up and I haven't seen Roy at school today. I don't know what story he told Mike and Tyler yet, so for now, I'm keeping quiet. I'll hear soon enough, that's for sure. And if I go to this party, I'll have to see him, maybe even _talk _to him. After last night, that's the last thing I want. Just the thought of pretending wears me out.

I read the note again. _You have to say yes._

My gaze automatically shifts to the back of the room, where I'd be sitting if I had the choice. Lauren picked these seats for us earlier this week, which is silly since she's so intent on passing notes rather than actually paying attention. Edward catches my eye and he does a small salute, flicking two fingers in my direction. His proximity to Emmett is daunting, and I'm careful not to look too far over and get caught again. I imagine that if I actually sat there, I would probably die from shyness and nerves rather than actually get anything done. I sure as hell wouldn't be _learning, _but then again, it's not like I'm paying attention now.

Not very becoming for the president of the National Honor Society. I let out a soft snort, smoothing a wrinkle in the paper, and sit up straighter in my seat. It's all about appearances, after all, isn't it? If I've learned nothing else in my seventeen years, I at least know that.

This time a pencil hits my arm and Lauren reclaims my attention. "Well?" she mouths.

_Why does she even bother asking?_

I know she's not going to let up. If I say no, she'll demand to know why, and I don't want to get into it, not now. God, not _ever_, but I know that's not an option. And as unappealing as it is to think that I'll have to keep up the act I'm so tired of, agreeing to the party tonight will be easier than explaining what I've done and how I feel. I shrug, then nod once. I'll be there.

I always am.

**xoxo**

When the last bell rings, I make my way down the crowded hallway to my locker, already dreading what I have to do tonight. Loud voices ring out around me. Someone yells out my name, but I just wave my hand and keep going.

My eyes go automatically to locker 346 as I pass by. Emmett's locker. I've always kept my attraction to him buried deep, but I can rarely resist looking for him at his locker or in the hallway. Just to look. No one's there, though, and even if any of them were - if _he _was - I wouldn't stop.

It's only a few steps farther to my locker and I lean my forehead against the cool metal, staring down at the lock. It's been mine since freshman year, and I still sometimes forget the combination. I spin the dial until the numbers return to me and the tumbler pops open, letting me in.

"You bitch!" A hand meets my left ass cheek, _hard_.

"What the fu -" I startle, realizing half a second before I let loose 'the bitch' that Lauren is the one who's just left what will probably be a permanent mark on my backside.

She leans against the locker next to mine, arms crossed. Her tone is teasing, but she's pissed. Her icy blue eyes are fixed, determined. Jess strolls up behind her with an eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

I can tell they're going to give me shit about something, and I have a sinking feeling about what that something might be. Ignoring the sudden pounding in my chest, I keep my voice neutral, dry. I can play unaffected with my eyes closed. "Your little pet names warm my heart, Mallo."

"Don't deflect," Lauren drawls.

A deep, familiar laugh rings out above the din of noise, drowning out Lauren as she continues to yammer on. My gaze slips over her shoulder. Emmett is just a few feet away, and it's like Lauren and Jess disappear altogether. I keep one eye on him while pretending to listen to Lauren. With them serving as unknowing shields, I'm able to blatantly stare without being completely obvious.

Emmett's leaning against 346, talking to Kate Bauer, whose locker is directly next to his. _Lucky bitch. _He's smiling down at her, dimples on full display, doing that friendly flirty thing that I've seen fluster even old Mrs. Cope. He laughs again, loud, rumbling. My breath catches in my throat.

Shit, I hope that wasn't audible.

Emmett and I have known each other since seventh grade, although we really don't _know _each other. We barely interact. I mean, Jesus, I can barely look him in the eye without my heart doing all kinds of ridiculous things. I'm sure I come off as a horrible bitch, what with my lack of words and my complete inability to return the smiles he sometimes directs my way. But even from afar, I always feel his warmth. Everything about him seems so genuine and confident – his laugh, his smile, the way he holds himself. That's an aspect of what's always pulled me to him, that he's so unabashedly _real_.

I don't know what that feels like, not anymore, and a part of me is envious of his ability to do that. There are no pretenses. He is who he is.

As middle and high school hierarchy usually dictates, he's always stayed with his group and I've stayed with mine. I grew up with the kids in the neighborhood, including Edward. After elementary school, our area was rezoned into Forks' proper town limits, but by the time we had blended in with the rest of the town's teenage population in seventh grade, we'd already forged our bond. In a lot of ways, I think the privilege we grew up with separated us from everyone else, so we stayed together. We were bound by our privilege. Lauren loved it, of course, and I think everyone else did, too. It made us different, but not in the negative way that sometimes ostracizes kids. It elevated us.

Of course, as soon as Edward saw Bella the first week of school, none of that mattered. I don't think it ever did to him. He didn't care that she wasn't part of the group he'd grown up with, that they were so different in a lot of ways. He saw people as people, not as the labels they wore, and to him they matched in the ways that mattered.

He and Emmett got close after that, too. Emmett was a part of Bella's group of friends, which also included Alice Brandon and Jasper Whitlock, and her friends became Edward's. He jumped between us and them, and still does to some extent because that's just how he is, an unapologetic floater, but his place in our group has gotten much smaller over the years.

I don't know much about Emmett, just the obvious surface things – that he plays football and lives in a small house on the other side of town. That he's got an infectious laugh and deep dimples. That he smiles more during English than I think Roy has in his entire life. That I wish I knew so much more. But there's a dividing line between us and I've never tried to cross it. My place has always been here, with Jess and Lauren. With Roy.

Of course, my place with Roy was effectively terminated last night. I wonder, looking over at Emmett now, if he and Edward figured out what was going on last night when they drove by, if they know.

I wonder if Emmett cares.

There's a part of me that thinks he might. It's a quieter part, the more secret part that's taken in every smile he's thrown my way, every lingering look over the years. It's the same part that's seen the way his smiled dimmed, just a little, when I'd walk past him on Roy's arm. High school politics aside, it's one of the reasons I've been careful to stay away from him, seeing the flicker of interest in his eyes that mirrors what I feel on the inside.

And now it's one of the reasons I wish I wasn't quite so far from him.

His eyes bounce from Kate to me, and for a second I'm frozen. I can't look away. His eyes are so clear; even from this distance I can see the navy flecks in them. There is probably a kaleidoscope of shades nestled in there, but I'd have to be closer to see. Very close.

I wish I were very close. I wonder if I could be someday.

It's only when his mouth pulls into this slow smile that makes me sluggish and light-headed, like the world is tilting on its axis, that I rip my gaze away. Not before I see Kate's hand settle on his bicep, though.

My hand jerks against my thigh. I have this overwhelming urge to slap hers off of him, like I have a right to.

Edward slides up behind Emmett and grabs him by the back of the neck. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Emmett's shoulders go up and he turns, faking a punch into Edward's side. Kate laughs and kind of rolls her eyes, then turns back to her own locker. I feel a smug little jolt of victory that their conversation has been cut short thanks to Edward Cullen, man of the people.

It's always been a bit of a mystery to me how easily he's able to shift from group to group. I mean, I guess there will always be those people who just get along with _everybody, _and Edward does it with grace. He's the guy that knows everyone in the school and treats everyone the same. Why can't everyone be like that?

Of course, then high school wouldn't be high school.

"Um, hello?" Jess snaps her fingers in front of my face. I smack her hand away, annoyed, and grab my AP Calc book. Homework already. Joy.

"Um, _what_?" I shoot back mockingly.

"When were you planning on telling us you and Roy broke up?"

She says it so fucking loudly that it's probably heard all the way in Port Angeles. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don't dare look in fear of what I might see. "Thanks for alerting the entire school to my relationship status, Jess."

"Seriously, why didn't you say something this morning, or you know, call us? Text?" Lauren speaks up, tapping my elbow impatiently.

I shrug. I don't want to tell her that I didn't want to deal because that makes me look like a bitch. And maybe I am. I'm not upset about the demise of the relationship because it wasn't really a relationship anymore anyway. I know I'm supposed to be but, yeah, I'm not. Like Roy pointed out, three years is practically a lifetime in high school terms. So what does that say about me?

Or maybe the better question is, what did it say about our relationship?

"I'm sorry that I didn't give you up-to-the-minute updates on my life. Should I be calling you in the morning so we can coordinate our outfits, too?"

They both roll their eyes, but say nothing to counteract my snide remark. Jess nudges me conspiratorially. "So, who did the breaking up?"

I close my locker with a sigh. I decide to keep it vague. "It doesn't matter."

Lauren stares at me. "Posie, it _always _matters."

"Maybe when it stops mattering, that's when you know it's over, huh? Or maybe it never really mattered in the first place." I can feel Emmett watching me, can almost _feel _him listening to what we're saying. I shrug with what I hope looks like finality, so they'll get the hint and drop it. I don't want to talk about this now, not with an audience.

"Right. Okay then," Jess drawls. She and Lauren are looking at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have, but I'm okay with that for now. They've been carrying the conversation. My contribution has been snark and perfunctory nods. "We're headed to the mall. You coming with your besties?"

I shake my head. "I have to stay after and talk to Mr. Medina about the Honor Society." Lauren wrinkles her nose and Jess lets out a disappointed huff, so as a consolation I tack on, "I'll see you at Mike's, though."

"Thatta girl." Lauren walks backward down the hall, both of them blowing kisses at me before they turn and stroll away. She calls back over her shoulder, "Maybe some of those Port Angeles Prep boys will be there. Get back on the horse, huh?"

I can't even talk to some of the people in our school without breaking out in a cold sweat and they're pushing me off on Mike's rich buddies he knows through his cousins in Port Angeles. _Typical._

Cradling my books to my chest, I set out toward the science wing to meet Mr. Medina. The crowd of students has thinned out as they catch buses or head for the parking lot. There are low voices behind me; I can feel Emmett there, just a few paces back.

If I were a different person, I would turn and talk to him and break out a flirty smile. As it is, I can't even manage a simple "hi," which is ridiculous.

I fall off to the side, standing outside of Mr. Medina's classroom. He's speaking to a student, so I hover outside the door, not wanting to interrupt. If I'm being honest with myself, I also don't want to miss the last few moments of Emmett walking down the hall.

He meanders past me, walking with a couple of guys from the football team. I'm drawn to this simple thing about him, that he takes his time. I'm always rushing. I only slow down and absorb my surroundings when I have my camera in front of my face, but it seems like he's _always_ absorbing the moment he's in. It's just one of the things that I admire about him, one of the things that I find so attractive. I may not know him, but everything he's shown me (whether he's meant to or not) pulls me in that much further.

He tugs his baseball hat from his back pocket and pulls it over his head, the bill toward the back.

And then?

He looks back over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine, and smiles. This time, it's full out and I get the feeling it's just for me, like it means something.

I have absolutely no idea how to react.

I'm sure I look stupid trying to grin back, my mouth morphed into some sort of weird hybrid smile-grimace. I glance down, suddenly fascinated with the notebook I'm holding, the small piece of paper that's sticking out from the binding.

When I look back up, he's nearly out of sight and I wonder if it was all just wishful thinking on my part.

**xoxo**

"Sweetie?"

My hand pauses over the doorknob. I clutch my camera in the other. With my phone already in my back pocket, the camera is all I need to carry tonight.

"Yeah?" I call back, my eyes automatically going heavenward. I don't have the patience for twenty questions.

My mom comes around the corner, her heels tapping softly against the marble floor of the foyer. Eric, her Yorkie, is tucked in the crook of one arm, staring at me as he always does. Even the dog silently judges me. Canned laughter wafts in from the living room where I'm sure my dad is sprawled on the couch, drink in hand. Everything here is always soft and hushed, the three of us unable to fill all of the sprawling space this house provides. What seemed like a castle when I was little now tends to take on the qualities of a very quiet prison.

Funny how silence can be so loud. Sometimes it drives me so crazy that I have to leave, go to Jess' house down the street or, if it's really bad, Lauren's, which is further across the development of McMansions. Her three little brothers are constantly running around, screaming about something.

Mom's eyes - violet like mine - drift from my hand on the knob, up to my body (and outfit), then finally to my face. I know Jess and Lauren will probably be wearing little summer dresses (emphasis on little in Lauren's case), but I don't feel like playing along tonight, so I threw on shorts in lieu of a dress. I tried to offset my obvious lack of clothing enthusiasm by pairing it with a nice top, sleeveless and delicate. They'll have something to say either way.

"Where are you off to?" she asks, smoothing a hand over her linen pants. They're completely unwrinkled. How does she do that?

"I'm going to Mike's," I reply. "I told you and Dad that at dinner."

Ah, that's where the wrinkles went, settled in between her eyebrows. "Anne and Michael are down in LA, aren't they?"

"Just until tomorrow morning, and it's just a few of us getting together." That's semi-true. I doubt there'll be more than thirty kids there.

She nods slowly, her pale hair moving gently against her shoulders. "Did you get your homework done?"

I stare at her. "Mom, it's Friday night."

"You've got a very ambitious class schedule this year, Rosalie -"

"I know, you and Dad were the ones who picked it," I snap, letting out a sharp sigh through my nose. That's semi-true, too. I picked the schedule I thought they'd approve of, all AP classes except for English and PE, and they did. I didn't even try to sneak in a photography class this time.

She raises an eyebrow at my tone. "We just want you to do your best," she says quietly. It's not an apology. They really don't think they're stifling me at all and I know it's out of love. They want me to get into a good college, continue to excel in life, have it all. I don't think they understand that it's smothering me now, and I don't know how to tell them.

"I'm going," I say, opening the door.

Her face softens and she leans forward to drop a kiss on my cheek. "Love you, Rose. Have fun."

Then she lifts up Eric's paw so that he's "waving" at me. In her Eric voice_, _she makes the dog _talk _to me. "Goodbye sister! Have fun with your friends."

_Right_, I think, but I don't say anything, just slip out the door and head off into the quiet night.

**xoxo**

I'm loud.

I'm standing on the short wall made of expensive stone and I'm loud, drinking from a red plastic cup, pretending to be someone I'm not. The last part is nothing new, at least, even though it makes me feel as numb as this beer.

As soon as I arrived at Mike's house, I was chided.

"Why didn't you tell us he broke up with _you_?"

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"Drink up, bitch."

I mumbled answers. If Roy wanted to tell everyone he broke up with me, if it helped him sleep better at night, so be it. I already knew they'd say something about my choice of clothing. And well, that last one wasn't so much a scold as a demand. It was the only one I was happy to answer to.

Drinking isn't something that I normally turn to, unlike the rest of them. Don't get me wrong, I drink occasionally, but I'm always in control. But tonight... tonight I don't feel like being in control. I feel like breaking out and doing something crazy because then I won't have to think.

So one red cup became two. And three. And then there were some jello shots tossed back for good measure. Now it's the Stan, Mallo and Posie Show. We're up on the wall and I quiet down as they start to dance and sing in earnest, both of them soaking up the attention. I'm happy to give them my portion of it. My camera's slung around my neck, so I busy myself as their Paparazzi, snapping off shots of them singing into their cups of beer. I look over my shoulder to find Roy standing there, looking pissed and not at all impressed by the performance. Figuring that Stan and Mallo can hold down the fort, or up the wall, or whatever, I jump down and try to blend. Some might think it's me, hiding behind my camera. In actuality, it's where I can be the most free.

"Posie! Where are you going?"

I wave Jess and Lauren off, holding up my camera. That's their signal to back off and they do, melting in with the rest of the kids. I used to melt along with them, but I like the dividing line my camera creates right now.

Drunk picture taking is always interesting. I don't worry about settings, the aperture or lighting. I just click away. Jess laughs when I stumble backwards slightly, my balance all off, but then Mike slings an arm around her neck. He pulls her close, starts to devour her face and I fade away into the background. I lift my camera again, watching them through the viewfinder. I wait until Mike stops mouth-fucking Jess and when he smiles down at her, stupid drunk but happy, I press the little round button that captures moments. I like them best when they're not planned - the small moments in between the staged ones, when it's real and honest, even when it's not perfect. Especially then.

I get a shot of Tyler looking down Lauren's dress and then another one of him smiling at her while she laughs with Jess, her hand clutching her elbow.

When I lower the camera, I'm suddenly tired. All the alcohol hits me like a tidal wave and I drift over to the picnic table (Mike's mom would kill me if she heard me call it something so pedestrian), slump onto the bench and watch everyone and everything happen around me.

Jess flops down next to me, her knee knocking against mine. She nestles her head against my shoulder. "You are the very definition of _wah wah _right now, Posie."

Lauren flanks me on the other side, clutching a red Solo cup. It's sweating and the condensation creeps down the side, dripping onto her dress. I watch the spot blossom into a dark blue stain of color. "Where's your party spirit?" she asks, sweeping her arm around expansively.

I must look unimpressed, because Jess leans her elbows back on the table, fixing me with a pointed stare that's verging on pity. "You're bummed about Roy, aren't you?"

"He's a dick," Lauren huffs, looking over to where he's standing with Mike and Tyler. "Seriously, breaking up with you the first week of our senior year? What about Homecoming? Prom?"

Would they be calling _me _a dick if they knew I was the one who broke up with Roy? If they knew why I did it?

I'm not even sure _I _know all of the reasons I did it, not yet. All I know is that being with him never felt completely right and that in the end it felt very wrong.

"Mallo, it's not just that," Jess replies, leaning forward to roll her eyes at Lauren. "They were together for three years. It's about their history as much as their future." She pauses thoughtfully before snatching Lauren's drink from her. She takes a long swig, swallows hard and then gives a delicate burp. "And they don't have to be together to get King and Queen anyway."

It feels like they're discussing someone else's relationship. I'm so far away from this already, tired of it all. I let out a small, impatient sigh. "Can we move on here, you guys? Or talk shit on your own time or whatever."

Lauren grabs her drink back and beer sloshes over the side, running down her leg. She ignores it and me. "The more Jello shots you have, the deeper you get, Stan."

Jess cocks her head. "The more Jello shots _you _have, the shorter your dress gets. Weird."

Lauren flips her off and then turns to me, slinging a heavy arm around my shoulders. "We're here for you, right?" Pretty sure she means to say _all _right, but I grasp the sentiment nonetheless. "Give it a week. Roy'll come crawling back to you."

"Awesome, just what I want," I say dryly.

Jess and Lauren keep chattering on about how what I really need is a _tall _guy, Roy's barely six feet, isn't he? and that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, _ha ha hiccup ha_. I nod my head and roll my eyes and make smart-ass remarks where appropriate, but my attention eventually drifts.

Roy is still over there with Mike and Tyler, but his gaze is on me. He's chewing his gum at the front of his teeth, neon green against vivid white, trying to look like he couldn't give a fuck. I think, in a detached way, about how good-looking he is - lean and tall with sandy blonde hair and aristocratic features. It'd be easy to tell he's wealthy even if he tried to hide it, which he doesn't. He told me once, in a rare moment of sharing and caring, that money was the only good thing his father had ever given him.

He doesn't see it and he'd probably kill me if I said it, but he's morphing into his dad. All these boys are. They're standing there, smoking cigars with two fingers of scotch in Michael Sr.'s crystal tumblers, the juniors to their patriarchs, and not just in name. They're molding themselves into what they think they should be, because it's all they've ever known. Even Roy, who hates his father most of the time. Royce Senior has set the bar high. That's what Roy reaches for - money, power, the right education and the right girl.

I was part of that and I've been doing it, too. I don't blame him... or myself. It sneaks up on you, sinks into your skin until one day you wake up and realize that this isn't who you want to be after all.

"I think I'm going to head out in a few, girls." I stand and subconsciously run my hands over the front of my shorts, until I realize that I'm doing the same thing my mom had earlier in the foyer. My hands stop and I stuff them in my pockets instead, leaving the wrinkles there. I don't need them to be perfect.

I stumble a bit before righting myself and head for the bathroom, leaving my camera with them for safekeeping.

You know when you've had a lot to drink but it doesn't really hit you until you stand up? And then you think to yourself, _Self, you're pretty wasted. _That's what's happening right now. I don't normally allow myself to drink this much. For Jess, Lauren, Mike, Tyler, this is a normal night. But this isn't a normal night for me, in more ways than one. I'm guessing it's not for Roy either, even though he's putting on the same show I am. _Everything's fine. Nothing to see here. _

I go to the bathroom and wash my hands, avoiding the mirror this time. I don't want to look at myself. Maybe I just don't want to _see_myself right now, who I'm pretending to be.

When I get back outside, I make my way back toward the table where Jess and Lauren are waiting for me to say my goodbyes.

Instead, Roy steps in front of me, intercepting my mission to quietly exit.

"Baby..." He puts a hand up to my cheek and tries to cradle my face. Except that we're nearly the same height, save a few inches, so it's not like he can cradle me to his chest. More importantly, I thought we'd established last night that I'm no longer his baby_._

"Don't call me that, Roy."

"Fine, _Posie." _He's never liked the nicknames that Jess, Lauren and I made up for each other. Or maybe he was just jealous that he never got one, like Mike's oh-so-clever name, Newt. "Is that better? Fuck, Rosalie. We need to talk."

I speak quietly. "I got the memo that you told everyone that you broke up with me. So if that's why you think we need to talk, don't worry. I get it loud and clear."

His voice goes low and he tries to lean into me so that we don't draw attention to ourselves, but the lean is more like a wobble. I not-so-gracefully (okay, drunkenly) try to scoot away. Of course, everyone is watching. They always are.

"Yeah, I told them I broke up with you. You know, so you don't look like a bitch."

Yet another one of those sharing and caring moments. I made the mistake once of telling him that it bothers me when people mistake my introverted nature as bitchiness. It figures he'd use that information against me now.

"Thanks for taking the fall, _Royce._ You're a real pal." I'm being sarcastic, of course, but it falls on drunk ears. I try to sock him lightly on the shoulder but it might have been a tad hard, because he winces. _Oops._

"Come on, Rose," he says, his speech slurring a little on my name. "I just want to talk to you for a minute."

"You're drunk and everyone's staring."

"Fine, somewhere else." He steps closer, so I move back. "Tomorrow morning. We'll get coffee at the diner."

"Fine, whatever," I reply shortly as I keep moving backwards. I don't even drink coffee, but since we're all about appearances here, coffee it is.

I wave to the girls and point at my camera. Jess signals with thumbs up that she'll take care of it. I don't want to spend any more time here than necessary, so I make my escape, slipping through the gate. The guys all have their Beemers lined up next to the curb. Some clubs have a secret password; ours has matching cars. I used to think it was so cool. Now I'm stumbling along, pressing my hand all over them as I try to stay upright. Maybe subconsciously I'm hoping that I'll mark up Roy's as I pass. A more vindictive girl might key his car, but my handprints will have to do. I'll leave my mark that way.

Besides, I don't have any keys with me. Don't need them, thanks to the keyless entry on my house.

I walk as fast as my legs will carry me, light and free and so relieved to be away from Mike's. I stumble along, weaving into the perfectly landscaped grass that lines the sidewalk, singing under my breath. It's just two lines, over and over: _I wish I was special. You're so fucking special._

A few houses down, I land in the Cullens' yard, one that I know well, because I've spent many Thanksgivings here. Our families are small, both of us only children, and since we don't have extended family in the area, we sometimes do holidays together. Our parents get along like houses on fire. It sometimes disturbs me how much my mom giggles with Esme, although I secretly love the sound, because she seems so carefree. Like she doesn't have a care in the world.

This yard holds memories of days long gone, memories of trying to teach Edward how to turn a cartwheel after I learned how to myself in gymnastics; of flag football games, me running around with Edward and our dads together, preemptively working off the huge meal we were about to eat.

And now it holds me, sprawled on my back, staring at the sky and listening to the low hum of Edward and his friends in the backyard.

I wonder if Em is here. _Em? Can I refer to him in my mind by his nickname if I hardly speak to the boy? Whatever, he won't know. Em it is._ I giggle at the thought of him being surprised that I call him Em. In my mind. _Giggle giggle giggle. _Because in my state I find this hysterical, for some reason.

I hear the grass rustling near me, footsteps falling on the perfect lawn. I close my eyes, wondering who's found me in my delirious state.

"Rosalie?"

I open my eyes to find him.

_Him._

I stop my internal laugh track, my mouth suddenly parched. He's perfect, the stars behind him, the moon as a backlight. I should say something. I should really, really say something. _What should I say?_

"You're just like an angel."

Well, shit. That? Of all the things to say in this world, that's what I come up with?

He smiles and the skin around his eyes crinkle. I want to touch it. "An angel? No one's ever called me _that _before." He reaches his hand toward me, silently offering to help me up. I stare at it for what feels like forever but is probably five seconds. My heart thuds so loudly in my chest that I can hear it in my ears, reverberating through the rest of my body.

And I let him help me up.

_Your skin makes me cry._

Thankfully, I don't say that out loud.

* * *

><p>Handfuls of thanks go out to the usual suspects - we've got an amazing posse of people that keep us on point. You know who you are! Plus, shoot, we called you out last chap. We love you guys. More handfuls of thanks to all who have read, alerted, favorited andor reviewed! Your ears are probably burning, 'cause we can't stop talking about you.

Next update will be arriving at the HotMessica station early next week. Teasers are handed out to those that want it. We'll also probably tell you we love you. ;) This is how we're rollin' from here on out, friends.

Have a great weekend!


	3. Chapter 3 Creep

Chapter 3 - Creep

Emmett's fingers are long, his palm warm and rough against mine. The night air is especially cool against my skin after he lets go and I press my hand against my thigh, wanting to reach for him again, but knowing I can't.

This is so weird. _I _feel weird. I know it's not just the alcohol I drank or dealing with Roy or the way things have changed in the past twenty-four hours.

It's that I'm standing here in Edward's front yard with Emmett and he's looking down at me, his eyebrows saying he's concerned and his smiling mouth saying he's laughing at me a little bit. And then he reaches forward. I watch in slow motion, staring at the navy fabric of his v-neck shirt and hold my breath. I see a little bit of chest hair, _oh god_, and he smells like fresh laundry and spice, like warmth. Then his fingers are in my hair. Mine curl into the hem of my shorts. I don't want to move, don't want to breathe.

"You've got grass in your hair, Rose," he says.

He makes my name sound amazing.

I think I closed my eyes.

Shit, I did. When I open them, he's still staring and now he's really laughing and holding this little blade of grass between his fingers, twirling it lazily.

It's my turn to say something. The art of conversation eludes me with him. "I..."

"You...?" He's so amused.

"I'm drunk."

"_No_." His eyes widen and even though it's dark, I'm positive every color that exists is in them. I lean toward him instinctively, and his hand is on my skin again, this time on my shoulder, holding me steady. "Why are you out here making grass angels on Cullen's lawn?"

"I was walking home from Mike's party," I reply, leaning further into his touch.

His eyes flash and I see the gold in them. "Wait, what? You were walking home alone?"

I nod-shrug-sway.

Emmett glances down at his watch, presses a button so that it lights up. For some reason, I find this adorable and I have to press my fingers against my numb mouth so he doesn't see my smile. "It's after midnight. Who the hell would just let you leave like that?"

"Let me? Did I need permission?"

I'm indignant, hips and arms akimbo, and I realize somewhere in the back of my mind that I'm not stumbling over my words, mainly just my feet. More importantly, I realize we're having an actual conversation. It feels...easy. Awkward still, because I'm pretty sure I'm staring at his lips and I'm also pretty sure he notices it, but I'm forming words and he is, too. I think this is how it's supposed to go.

"You think it's a good idea to be wandering around in the middle of the night when you're like this?"

I nod-shrug-sway again and look at the ground. I'm not going to admit that I do this a lot. Even when Roy and I were together, he'd only walk me home occasionally. Most of the time he wanted to hang out with the boys and get fucked up. In fact, the only times he really made an effort to walk me home was when he knew my parents wouldn't be there and he wanted to _get _fucked. Needless to say, I was fine walking alone given the alternative.

But I _really _don't want to admit that to Emmett.

"Okay, so here's the deal."

I look up quickly and stumble a bit to the left, then blink up at him. The alcohol seems to have numbed my shyness with him, and I blurt, "The deal? We have a deal?"

He smiles, his dimples blossoming on his face. There's something about the way he's looking at me that I think would make me feel drunk even if I wasn't. I know what it is, but have forced myself to ignore it because I was with Roy.

That look scares me more now that I'm single than it did when I was taken. Before, it was a look that represented what I didn't have. Now, it represents something that I could, if I had any idea what to do with it. Or him, for that matter.

He bends his knees, stooping a little so that we're eye-to-eye. God, he's tall. "Why don't you chill out back with us for a bit and sober up? When you're ready, I'll walk you home."

My pulse jumps in my wrists, behind my knees, in my neck. It thumps out a beat: _stay, stay, stay_. "You don't need to walk me home."

"I want to make sure you're safe." Emmett's hand drifts down my shoulder, past my bicep, his thumb grazing the inside of my elbow and down, down, down until his fingers wrap around my wrist. His thumb stops right above my pulse.

"Why? You don't even really know me."

"I want to," he says, low and serious, but then he's smiling again, sly, and I wonder if I just dreamed those three words up. "My gram raised me right. I'm not going to let a beautiful girl walk home alone in the middle of the night, okay?"

I stare up at him, fully aware that he's still gripping my wrist. He can probably feel how affected I am by what he just said. "Did you just call me beautiful?"

He considers my question. "Are you going to remember any of this in the morning?"

"I don't know." It sounds like _Idunknow_.

_Dear God, I know You and me aren't that tight, but please, please let me remember this in the morning._

Emmett laughs again, this beautiful, deep sound that echoes off the trees and mingles with the soft laughter coming from the backyard. Noticing the noise from the yard for the first time, it occurs to me that I'm not sure what I'm walking into. "Then yeah, I did." One of his eyebrows lifts as he steps back, still holding onto me, checking me out. "Can you walk?"

I snort. "I think I can handle it."

I still let him wrap his arm around my shoulder while we make our way toward the backyard. I'm drunk, not stupid. I'll take any excuse for him to touch me.

"I was singing, by the way," I mention to him because it seems important.

"Singing..."

"Before, when I called you an angel. I was singing. I wasn't actually calling you an angel," I clarify.

"Well now my feelings are hurt."

I stare at the blades of grass, our feet trampling them.

"I was kidding, _by the way._" He squeezes my shoulder. "And for the record, I'm more of a creep or a weirdo than an angel."

I smile at his acknowledgement of the song, but say nothing. I want to tell him that I don't normally get drunk like this. I want to ask him if he knows how long I've wanted to talk to him. I want to ask him if he's heard that I'm not Roy's girlfriend anymore. I want him to _know _me, not just see me for the way that I'm presented. Instead I stay quiet, walking and reveling in his touch and how my side is pressed against his.

We round the side of the house with Emmett gently guiding me toward the far back corner of the deck. Edward's parents had a stone fire pit built a few years ago and the weekends usually find him here. Esme and Carlisle are pretty much always home and Edward's more of a homebody than a going out type. This house, this yard, are always warm, always welcoming. Why would he want to go out when he's got such a good thing going here?

"Where'd you park, dude? East Bumblefu..." Edward's voice trails off at the sight of me, nestled into Emmett's side. He tries to play it off, but he raises his eyebrows when he turns to me. "Hey, Ro."

I raise a hand and murmur an uncomfortable hello, although I'm slightly comforted by Edward's use of the shortened version of my name. He's always called me that and it reminds me that even though I'm walking into a new situation, _he's _familiar.

Everyone is loud in their greeting; it's very boisterous, considering there's only four of them: Edward, Bella, Jasper and Alice. I don't really know the others, but then again, I don't really _know _know the guy currently propping me up. "Sorry for crashing your party. I just…"

"Ro's going to hang out with us until she sobers up a bit and then I'm going to walk her home," Emmett says firmly. I bite my lip to stop a smile; he makes _Ro _sound even more amazing. And he really wasn't kidding about the whole Gram raising him right thing, not that I'm complaining. Of course that means he wasn't kidding when he called me beautiful either. I wonder if he'd think so if he learned that I'm sort of empty inside.

"What a good Samaritan you are, Em." Alice tilts her head with a wide, innocent smile. She's beautiful in a delicate, breakable kind of way, but her eyes are bright and alive.

"Got my Boy Scout badge last week, Shorty," Emmett quips easily, darting a glance at me. Alice looks at me, too, and her grin is almost blinding. I don't know if it's my imagination or if the fire is reflecting off her teeth or if I'm just really, really drunk.

"Grab a seat, Rosalie. We don't bite," Jasper says as he leans back in his chair, threading his hands behind his head. Whenever I see him at school, he's wearing a totally random t-shirt. Tonight it's pale blue with a mustache stretched across the chest.

I reluctantly sit on the bench across from them, sad to lose the contact with Emmett and trying not to show it. Pulling my legs up, I wrap my arms around them and attempt a smile at my classmates. The four of them are all smiling at me like they're in on some big secret that I know nothing about.

Covertly - or probably not, since I'm drunk - I watch Emmett as he retreats to a docking station sitting on a cooler near the sliding glass doors. He leans over, allowing me to openly stare at his ass. He has a really nice one that I get to see at every football game. It's one of the only reasons that I actually go to them, although no one knows that. Looking at said ass reminds me that the season will be starting again in the next few weeks. I'm sure he's starting again this year, which will make the games infinitely more bearable.

Emmett takes an iPod out of his pocket and looks over his shoulder, seemingly unsurprised that I'm looking at him. He waves it in the air. It looks a bit beat up; the porch light reflects off the back, highlighting the tiny scratches all over. "I was just getting this from my car when I came across you."

"Oh." Sometimes I really stun myself with my brilliance.

It's quiet except for the pop of the fire. My eyes slip from Emmett crouched in front of the docking station to the flames twisting between me and the rest of the group. I can hear Emmett mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the music. When I finally lift my gaze, the fire stinging my cheeks and eyes, Edward is grinning at me.

"Hanging out at Newt's tonight, huh?"

"How'd you know?" I don't know why I asked that. Where else would I have been stumbling home drunk from?

Bella points straight up in the air and Edward glances sideways at her, the softest of smiles on his face. He always looks at her like that, like he can't believe she's his. "We could hear you guys."

I strain my ears and sure enough, I can hear the low thump of bass and intermittent laughter. It sounds farther away than it really is, like I'm in a different world rather than on a different block. I feel so far removed from Mike's backyard, from Jess and Lauren and especially Roy. It's so weird being here instead, with this group instead of my own, but something about it is decidedly _not _weird. Almost right. It's calmer, intimate and comfortable in a way no Newt party could ever be.

My gaze goes back to Emmett, who's either solving world hunger or is just really picky about his music. I can only see his profile; his hair flops over a frown and his bottom lip is puffed out in concentration. He looks like boy and man and I feel that pull of attraction again, this time in my stomach.

"Hey, any day, McCarty," Edward calls out, mirroring my thoughts. Well, some of them. I doubt he's waxing poetic on the angle of Emmett's jaw line. I can almost feel it against my fingertips, how rough and soft the skin would probably be, how warm his breath would feel on my wrist. How warm his eyes would be on my face, and then his mouth, hot.

I shift in my seat and cross my legs. I'm letting my thoughts wander into dangerous territory.

Jasper raises his arm, waggling his finger in the air. "Yeah, you just press the arrow button, bud. Works like a charm every time."

"You shutting the fuck up works like a charm every time, Whitlock," Emmett shoots back, but it's good-natured, as is the smile he throws over his shoulder at Jasper. When his eyes meet mine, the corners of his mouth shift into something else.

"Pick something slow, Em," Alice says, already humming something softly.

"If we have to watch you and Jasper slow dance again -" Bella starts with a grimace.

"You mean dry hump," Edward interrupts.

"I think the term you're looking for is fake fuck," Emmett supplies, finally standing and dusting off his hands.

I recognize the first strains of the song as they drift into the still night air, a slow, gritty beat, and Emmett walks back toward me. Holy shit, he's moving in slow motion. The fire lights up his face, casting shadows and making his features even more chiseled, strong.

_Please sit next to me, please sit next to me, pleasesitnexttome._

He does, right next to me, and the fire is cold compared to the rush of heat when his knee brushes against mine. He doesn't move away. I stare at the square inch of skin where we're connected, the right corner of my kneecap against the left corner of his. When I glance at him, he's looking at us, too.

His dimples show even when he's smiling soft like that.

I have to look away because my heart is pounding and I feel dizzy and hot and like every part of my body has turned to slow-moving liquid. Like honey. I focus my attention on Alice, staring at the purple stripe in her hair. I'm aware of every shift Emmett makes next to me. This music isn't helping at all.

_I want your love_, _I don't want to be friends._

Alice rests her head on Jasper's shoulder, who looks a little smug. "You people just don't know how to dance."

"You're thinking of a very different kind of dancing, Alice," Bella laughs. Edward has his hand on the back of her neck now, moving his fingers in small circles.

"No, I'm talking about _feeling _the music, not just shrugging your shoulders and shuffling your feet." She shoots Emmett a pointed look, who snorts, then waves her hand in the air. "Like this song."

"I love this cover," I say without thinking, swaying to the beat. Or maybe I'm swaying to the alcohol. Either way, it makes my shoulder and arm graze Emmett's. The little hairs on his forearm tickle my skin.

Alice's eyes light up again and she stands. "Come on, Rose, dance with me."

"_Yes_," Jasper breathes, sitting up straight.

"Not like that, Jas." Alice rolls her eyes and smacks him on the chest. "You guys watch too much porn."

"_Hey_," Emmett exclaims. "Uncool."

There's a surge of courage from somewhere low in my stomach - probably wherever those Jello shots have landed - and I look down at him as I stand, eyebrow arched. "Like it's such a secret that teenage guys watch porn?"

I'm rewarded with an impish grin. "Aw, you caught me, Rose." A pause and then he tilts his head, his eyes drifting downward, just a bit, before finding mine again. "My secrets are more interesting than that anyway."

One side of my mouth pulls up. "Mine, too." They're quiet, those two words just between us.

Alice's tugs my hand and I resist the urge, the pull, for a moment. "I don't know, no one else is dancing."

"Do you always do what everyone is doing?" She's cheeky, knows exactly what to say. Her words and her look hit me, like she knows.

I allow myself to be pulled because it's not a pull - it's a push in the right direction. Away I go - away from the fire, away from him, away from the eyes. We're in the shadow of the trees on the lawn and while I can see them there, I'm pretty sure that they can't make us out as well as we can them. Alice is swaying, her eyes closed. She looks peaceful, if not a bit high, and she spins, in a world of her own.

_Don't think, just do._

My eyes slide closed and I'm moving, swaying, my hips leading while my hands find my hair. This version of the song is slow, sultry, and I let it lead me. I dance this way when I'm alone, never around people and certainly not around people I don't know well. Maybe the not knowing is what makes it easier this time. The music shifts to another song. I can hear Ray LaMontagne's voice, low and rugged from the far-off speakers.

"Rose? Where'd you go?" Emmett calls to me and I open my eyes lazily, glancing around to see that I've danced myself further toward the tree line. He's walking toward me slowly and I let my eyes drag along his form. I wonder if he'll touch me again. I wonder if he'll tell me one of his secrets. Or all of them.

He's in front of me now. I feel less drunk than I did twenty minutes ago. "You found me." The words hold more meaning than just him finding a wayward dancer at night. The thump of the drums echo through my ears.

Or maybe it's my heart.

"I grabbed a bottle of water for you." He twists the cap off, holding it while I take a sip.

"And here I thought you were coming out here to dance with me." I smile, almost euphoric that I'm able to get more than three syllables out _and _make a joke.

He snorts, looking down, shy-like. Me-like. "Nah, you don't want to see me dance."

"Yes, I do. But I'll let you off the hook." My mind and voice are connecting around him and actually making sense. I'm letting him see a little more of who I am; I'm somehow allowing myself to be the tiniest bit more vulnerable.

"Hey, you two making out over there?" Jasper calls back and then there's a _thwack, _as he's smacked upside the head by Alice, who's walking back to the fire. I hope that it's dark enough that Emmett can't see my face reddening, but then I look at him. There is a slow blush creeping around his neck.

"You still with Roy?" His voice is low, gritty as we start back to the fire pit.

"No." Then I remember that I've agreed to see Roy in the morning and cringe, which he notices.

"Sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm _sure about that_." I throw the words back at him. "But I made the mistake of agreeing to meet him in the morning so that I could get away from him at Mike's."

"You agreed to see him again... so that you could get away from him? That doesn't make sense."

I shrug. "Roy and I don't make sense."

He smiles at that, giving me a sidelong glance. "So agreeing to meet him is a mistake, huh?"

"Yeah. I mean, I said everything I needed to when I broke up with him last night."

The words are out of my mouth before I can catch them and I look over at Emmett, my eyes widening. He's watching me with this shy boy smile, making my heart feel like butterfly wings against my ribs, light and fast.

"I wondered what was up when Cullen and I drove past your house last night."

"Yeah," I breathe out, pressing my palm against my forehead. My skin feels hot. "Shit, and I just went ahead and confirmed it. You're not supposed to know that."

"Why not?"

He stops, too, close to me, so close that I can see that his eyes are dark, his pupils making them inky like the sky above us. I've been so busy being drunk that I didn't realize he is, too. I can smell a hint of something on his breath, probably Carlisle's bourbon. It's always been Edward's favorite thing to pilfer and Carlisle has enough of a cache that he doesn't notice, or pretends not to. Edward never takes it out of this backyard. He has no reason to.

I remember drinking it once, how the bourbon moved down my throat like liquid fire, like something real and substantial. I loved the way it burned.

My eyes drift back to Emmett. He's waiting for an answer, still doing that half smile thing. He must have some magic, because whenever it's directed at me I feel things in strange ways, things I've never felt before with anyone. It tingles in the backs of my knees, behind my eyelids and at the base of my spine, and sometimes, when his smile is kind of wicked and his dimples are deep, in my thighs and between them.

"He told everyone that he broke up with me so I wouldn't look like a bitch." I roll my eyes and take another sip of water, catching a stray drop with my tongue. I look at him and our eyes meet mine a half second later. _Oh god, I think he was staring at my mouth._

"You're not a bitch," he states, like it's a fact. Like he knows this about me.

"I'm pretty sure that's not what ninety percent of the school thinks." Warm relief rushes through my veins at the confirmation that he's not part of the ninety percent.

"Do you give a shit what ninety percent of the school thinks?" he shoots back, eyebrows raised.

I shake my head. "Seriously, though, that's not public knowledge. Don't tell anyone that I broke up with him, okay? I don't want to deal with it."

"Secret's safe," he says with a grin.

We start moving again, but I put my hand on his elbow suddenly. "Wait." He looks down at my hand and then up at me. "You have to tell me one of yours now."

"One of my what?"

"Your secrets."

He looks at me for a long moment. It's quiet. I can't even hear Edward and everyone else by the fire pit, though they've been getting rowdy, murmuring to each other and then bursting into laughter. I know they're watching us, but I don't care. It's just Emmett and me. I feel like we're the only two people in the world.

"I'm glad you broke up with Roy," he says finally, and then starts walking like he didn't just change things. And because I don't know him well enough to push it, I let it slide instead. I hasten my step so that I'm beside him. We walk silently to the bench.

"How are you feeling, Rosalie?" Edward leans back in his chair, Bella resting her head against his chest with her eyes closed. "You can crash here if you need to, you know? I know Mom and Dad would be happy to see you."

"I'm good. I'll probably head out of here in about fifteen." I'm not dizzy anymore. In fact, I'm almost positive I can lie on my back without getting the bed spins. I might get them thinking about what's happened here in Edward's yard, but not from the alcohol.

_I'm glad you broke up with Roy._

It replays in my mind, a mantra. I pull my phone from my pocket, intent on putting this coffee thing to an end.

"Hey, what are you doing there?" Emmett asks as I squint down at the screen, scrolling through my recent contacts. Roy's far down, below my parents and Lauren and Jess. If he needs me, he just comes over or texts. Or did.

I have to remember that it's okay to say these things in the past tense.

"I'm going to call Roy and cancel. I don't want to have coffee with him. I hate coffee."

"Call him? Do you think that's the best idea?"

Maybe I'm not sobering up as much as I thought, or maybe he's not as drunk. He's making much more sense than I am.

"No?" I'm not convinced.

"Hand me the phone, Hale."

He's sitting there, beckoning for my phone with an open palm and quick flicks of his fingers. I give him the "you're crazy" look, because this is my phone we're talking about here and it's an extension of me. He's cute and all and does funny things to my insides but seriously, this is my _phone._

He tries again, this time adding a little puppy-dog face while pointing to the phone. "Come on. Friends don't let friends drunk dial."

I pretend to acquiesce, slowly handing over my phone until it's _thisclose _to his hand and then pull it back behind my head. The grin I get from that little maneuver encourages me to repeat it once more before he finally reaches across me, pressing his hand on my leg while muttering, "Gimme that." For a moment his face is close to mine and all I can see is light.

He snatches the phone away, pocketing it. My mind is focused on his eyes, stuck on his words. It seems to do that a lot. I'll probably constantly be thinking about all the things he's said tonight. I wonder if we'll talk at school on Monday or if this is a one-time deal.

I really hope not, but I don't see how we could just slide into some easy breezy buddy-buddy friendship. Even with Edward as a common factor, it would seem sudden and random.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Jasper snickers in the background, muttering about hard things, and Alice does the _shhhh, baby _thing.

Even still, I can't help but ask. "So, we're friends?"

His expression is indiscernible as he appraises me. The other four have gotten quiet, waiting for answer. He pushes forward a grin and I can tell he's thinking something different than what he says. "Hell yeah, we're friends. I practically braided your hair when I took the grass out."

The conversation picks up again and continues around me. I'm comfortable, chiming in here and there, but mostly I just listen, which they seem content to let me do. It's such a different atmosphere from Jess and Lauren, who pretty much constantly demand my full attention and participation during conversations. Sometimes being around them is exhausting. I don't feel that here at all.

My and Emmett's legs are touching again and I'm hyper-aware of that fact. I keep glancing down, wondering what it would be like to have more of us touching. It's definitely not the first time that I've wondered about it. Subtly, I look at the watch on his arm, try to make out the numbers without having to ask him. After what might be the fiftieth time, he realizes what I'm doing and glances at his watch.

"It's almost one-thirty." I nod and he quirks an eyebrow. "You could have just asked, Ro. You can ask me anything."

"Oh, it's that easy?" I ask, leaning back to look him up and down.

He grins and stands, holding out his hand. I'm starting to recognize all of his different smiles. This one, coupled with his outstretched hand, reads like an invitation. Or maybe a promise. "It can be."

I take his hand, let him pull me up. We're close, the toes of my sandals touching the toes of his sneakers, black beat-up Chucks that are coming apart at the seams in one place. They're huge. Everything about him is - the sheer height of him, the broad span of his shoulders, that smile and his hand over mine, the feelings that he stirs up inside of me. He could engulf me without even trying, completely surround and consume me.

What would that feel like? Whatever the feeling, I don't think I'd mind it one bit, not if Emmett was the cause.

"I'll remember that," I say, one side of my mouth pulling up. He mimics me, the light of the fire dancing in his eyes.

God, this is so obvious, isn't it? Me and him? I can't look away. I wonder why everyone isn't up our asses, or at least Emmett's. If I were acting this way in front of Jess or Lauren, they'd have me trapped in a bathroom somewhere in less than five seconds, wanting to dissect the angle of his head tilt or the way he didn't let go of my hand for an additional 3.2 seconds.

Actually, they'd probably be wondering what the hell I'm doing with Emmett McCarty, looking at him the way I know I'm looking at him when I'm supposed to still be mourning my break-up with Roy.

"Hey, Swan Song," Emmett calls over his shoulder. His eyes are locked on me.

"She's asleep, dill hole," Edward replies lazily.

"No, I'm not." Bella's voice is clear and strong.

Emmett turns fully, his back to me. The nape of his neck is flushed pink. "Want to walk Rose home with me?"

I stare at his back, at the way his muscles move underneath his t-shirt when he stuffs his hands in his pockets. Does he not want to walk alone with me? Is that a good or bad thing? Would I have _wanted _him to walk me home alone?

It's safer this way, I guess. God knows what I'd do with the darkness on my side. I already feel braver than I ever have with him. Maybe it's good to have a chaperone.

"Sure thing." Bella stands and stretches, smacking Edward's hand away playfully when he grabs onto the belt loop of her jeans. He throws Emmett a glare.

"Why are you stealing my woman, McCarty?"

"'Cause it's that easy, Cullen." Emmett glances back at me over his shoulder with a smile. "And Bella's the only one here who isn't drunk. I don't trust myself to get back here on my own."

"Are you that drunk, Em?" Alice speaks up. She's curled up like a cat on Jasper's lap with her eyes closed, running her hands slowly through his hair.

Emmett shrugs and Jasper squints over at him. "It's impossible to tell with McCarty."

Edward snorts, watching Bella pull on a hoodie that must be his because she's swimming in it. "Yeah, until we're fishing him out of the Tanners' koi pond next door."

"Dude, that happened _once,_" Emmett replies and his cheeks are pink now, too. He's grinning back at me, though, and shrugging again.

Apparently staying in Edward's backyard doesn't stop them from engaging in shenanigans.

"You ready to go?" he asks.

I don't really want to, but it's late and I'm pushing it, so I nod and watch as he slides his arms into his hoodie. If I'm not a ninja sneaking back in the house, my parents are going to kill me. They trust me to obey curfew (one if I'm staying in the neighborhood, midnight anywhere else), so they never wait up for me.

I'm not exactly sure how to say goodbye to the remainder of the group so I raise my hand, much in the same way I said hello just an hour before, although it's much less awkward this time. So much has changed from then to now. It's kind of amazing that such a short amount of time has made such an impact.

Edward stands and wraps his arms around me in a bear hug as Alice unfolds herself from Jasper's lap. "See you at school on Monday, Rosalie," she whispers in my ear, giving me a tight squeeze.

Jasper stays put, raising his hand over his head. "Later, Ro."

Flanked by Bella and Emmett, we make our way back to the front of Edward's house, heading in the direction of mine. It's not far but I'm dragging my feet, not wanting the night to end, but knowing that it has to. Something has changed here and while I don't know exactly what it is or what it will mean, I don't want to lose it in the light of the morning.

I shiver, wrapping my bare arms around my body. I see Bella giving Emmett a pointed look behind my head.

"Oh!" He shrugs out of the hoodie and drapes it across my shoulders. "Shit, sorry, here. You're cold."

I think about arguing for a moment, just because it will give me something more to say but instead I say "thank you," as I slide my arms through the sleeves. They're long, too long for me, but perfect just the same.

There's a beat of silence and then Bella speaks up. Her hands are burrowed into the front of Edward's hoodie and she has the hood on, from when he pulled it up. "So hey, Rosalie, my birthday party's coming up next weekend. Em and Jasper have their first game on Friday night so we're going to meet back at Edward's after the game. Hang out, celebrate. Very low-key. I don't know if you're busy but..." Her hands move in her pockets, like she'd be waving them around if they were in the air. "You know... you're like, welcome to join us. More than welcome."

It's an opportunity to return to the feeling this night have given me; I'm sure that my grin is ridiculous as I smile and nod. "Yeah. Yes. Definitely. That would be... that would be really nice." I sneak a glance at Emmett. He's wearing a matching goofy smile.

"Will you be at the game?" He asks, kicking at a small tuft of grass growing up through the sidewalk.

"Yes. Usually I go to Mike's after the games, so I might have to make an appearance there for a little bit... oh, crap. It's his birthday thingy that night too-"

"Oh, then you don't have to-" Bella's cuts me off, blushing. Emmett frowns at her, shaking his head.

I hold my hand up, cutting her off. "No Bella, I _want _to." It feels good to say, because it's true. For the first time in a while, I'll be doing what I want to, and not just what's expected of me. "I'll spend an hour or so there and then I can walk over to Edward's. Thanks for including for me."

And that's that.

Without thinking, I slide my hands into the pockets of Emmett's sweatshirt, only to find his cell phone. "Oh! I need my phone back. Or... I can hold yours as collateral." I wave it in the air teasingly.

"Hey, that's fine," Emmett says. He pulls my phone out of his pocket and tosses it casually from one hand to the other. "I need some new reading material anyway."

"What, _Penthouse _isn't going to cut it tonight?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, the sarcastic, dry type of teasing that I'm used to with the _boys _I'm used to. It's quiet for a second and then Bella is laughing, a husky sound that drifts up to the tops of the trees surrounding us. I see her clutch Emmett's arm in my peripheral, holding herself up.

When I can finally make eye contact with Emmett, he's looking between me and my phone with a smirk, his eyes twinkling. If there's anything I've learned about him in the years I've barely known him and especially in the past hour, it's that sarcasm only fuels his fire. He thinks he's found a willing partner in me.

He's not wrong, even though my face is a little hot. He has this way of making me feel too comfortable, like I can say or do anything. It's dangerous and exhilarating, a loss of control I think I like. I'm not used to that, not being in control all the time. Maybe the alcohol has made me more malleable, more willing to bend the rules I set out for myself so long ago.

"Is there _Penthouse_-worthy stuff in here?" Emmett asks as he lights up the screen. "Are you, Jess and Lauren sexting late at night?"

His mention of my best friends, who are still at Mike's and probably giggling and wasted, brings me back down to earth a bit. I've been orbiting in another universe, but this makes me remember my lot in life. At the end of the day (or night in this case), I'm still Posie, even if I'm different with them and especially with him.

"Oh, just give it to me," I huff, snatching the phone back. He laughs again, this delighted little giggle, and I roll my eyes at Bella. She just shakes her head, a soft grin on her face as she looks between us.

Suddenly, his fingers are wrapped around my hand. I glance down at our fingers, tangled together, watching without breathing as he gently pries his phone out of my grasp. My pinkie finger catches his when he pulls away and I curl it around his knuckle, squeezing lightly before letting go.

Emmett looks down at me, sideways with his chin kind of brushing his shoulder, and the way his eyes linger on me even as we keep walking makes all of my fingers curl into my palm.

My house looms in front of us, completely dark. I can hear the silence from out here. I'll have to remember not to breathe when I go up the stairs, past my parents' bedroom. I don't think that'll be a problem; Emmett seems to have taken it all anyway.

Bella and Emmett stop at the end of the driveway, like they can't go any further, or don't want to. Emmett's gaze slips over my shoulder, taking everything in - the vastness of the mansion behind me, a cookie-cutter version of one down the street with minor modifications to make it seem like it's somewhat unique; my BMW sitting in the driveway because my parents' collection of cars takes up all three spots in the garage; the manicured lawn, pristine with every blade cut just so.

I wouldn't want to go any further either.

"Thanks for walking me home," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. There's a cacophony of crickets, probably chilling in my mom's rose bushes that line the driveway, but other than that there's not a sound.

"Well, someone's gotta take care of your drunk ass, Hale," Emmett replies, his hands going back to his pockets.

Bella lets out a completely fake sneeze, rubbing at her nose. "I'm going to go stand over, uh, there," she says, waving her arm vaguely behind her. "I think the rose bushes are messing with my sinuses."

Emmett watches her walk away quickly, then turns back to me sheepishly. "Damn, that Swan and her allergies. She's always sneezing, you know. Like, hay fever or something."

"Uh huh," I say.

He coughs, scratches at his neck and then glances sideways at me. "So, you're going to hang with us on Friday, then?" He can go from smirky, sexy man to this _aw shucks _boy in approximately two seconds flat. I half expect him to shuffle his foot along the ground. For some reason, the boy in him gives me courage.

"Is that okay with you?"

He grins, flirty and still kind of shy, and the combination sends tingles all the way up my legs, on the insides - ankles, knees, thighs. "What would you say if I said I wasn't?"

"I'd say you're a liar."

He laughs loudly, but then quickly smothers it his hand, his eyes going up to the second floor. My parents sleep like the dead; I'm more concerned about Eric hearing us down here and waking them up with his ear-shattering monster bark.

"Okay, well..." And then I do the stupidest thing I think I've ever done in my life, putting Sun-In in my hair notwithstanding: I hold out my hand. I hold out my hand _for Emmett to shake_.

Oh, god, well, I can't take it back, so I wiggle my fingers impatiently. Emmett stares down at it, this little weird grin on his face. I've never seen this particular version. I don't know what to call it.

He slips his hand into mine so that we're palm to palm. His fingers are so long that they sweep over the inside of my wrist - I never realized how sensitive that skin was until just now - before wrapping around my hand and pulling me a little closer. His eyes are dark, almost serious, and I swallow.

"See you Monday," I murmur. I've never heard my voice like this, low and a little deep.

One corner of his mouth goes up - hello, dimple - and then he releases me, both in hold and gaze. "Yeah, see you." It implies something I can't quite figure out.

He heads toward Bella, looking back over his shoulder twice as he does. I wave and back up the driveway, not turning until they do. Bella punches his bicep and her voice carries in the still night air, although I can't make out what she says. Whatever it is makes Emmett laugh and sling his arm around her shoulders.

I make it up to my bedroom, tiptoeing past my parents' room where my dad's snores rattle the walls. I slip into pajamas, wash my face and brush my teeth, and then stare at myself in the mirror. I don't look different, but something's shifted in me tonight. I wish I could see it in addition to feeling it.

I don't know what this means or what will happen on Monday. I don't know if Emmett and I will talk, and if we do, I don't know what my friends will say. I know I'm still Posie, but I'm starting to feel like someone else, too, more like the girl who loves taking pictures when no one's looking, who could spend hours in the darkroom at school, watching faces and places and moments come to life again, one second caught forever. Tonight with Emmett, it didn't feel like I was playing a role.

What I do know is that, when I climb into bed with Emmett's hoodie zipped up to my chin, I can smell him.

It's spicy and earthy, clean - the grass he picked from my hair, the fire and smoke we sat near tonight - and also things I haven't discovered yet. Laundry, soap, a hint of cologne. I fall asleep with my nose buried in it, drifting happily off into blackness.

* * *

><p>First off, we're dedicating this chapter to AccioBourbon because she's told us that this is one of her faves AND hi, there is bourbon involved in this chapter. And she's hot and fiery, real and substantial. We love you, J.<p>

Other people we love: H for her fierce and fab red pen work, Jugs, JD and Bec for their discerning eye and sweet, sweet comments.

Secondly, we've been referencing lots of music throughout. Can you tell we're very musically inspired? If you're curious:

Radiohead - Creep (you'll be seeing it a lot), Fake Plastic Trees - and we love the covers too. Scala & Kolacny Brothers version of Creep - gahhhh. And have you heard the Vitamin String Quartet's Strung Out on OK Computer? So good.  
>30 Seconds to Mars - Bad Romance (cover of Lady Gaga and damn, does that boy know how to sound like pure sex.)<br>Ray LaMontagne - I don't think we actually referenced a song but everything by him is good. Trust.

Thanks to everyone for all of your support and love! The reviews are epic and the tweets make us smile so big. It's very much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4 Smells Like Teen Spirit

Chapter 4 - Smells Like Teen Spirit

It's funny; usually I'm complaining that the weekend goes too fast. Hell, everyone does that, right? We work our way through the week, living for the final bell to ring at two in the afternoon. However, _this _weekend is different. I can't wait for it to be over. I actually _want _to go to school. My body buzzes with nervous energy, unsure of what exactly to expect. Even if outwardly it doesn't seem like things are changing, inside I know that they are.

I get to school early Monday morning. Whenever I drive in with Lauren and Jess, I make it there seconds before homeroom starts, skirting in as the door's closing. Not today. Today I'm flying solo because I have a mission. A note is in my hand, palmed where no one can see. It's my little secret, holding two words: _thank you. _I figure it's enough to get the message across, one that Emmett will know is from me. Walking down the same hall is so different than it was Friday afternoon. I'm barely aware of anyone moving around me. My sole purpose is to make it to locker 346 and push this note through the metal slats without running into any of my regular crew.

Saturday morning I'd called Roy. The king of the text message was a little thrown. For as long as we'd been together, we were never really a phone type of couple. Not like my friends, anyway. But I called and as gently as I could, explained that I didn't want to meet him. Not for coffee, not for anything. He was less hostile than he'd been at the party, and I could tell that he was still at Mike's, probably sleeping off his hangover.

Truth be told, he just grunted and hung up, which I took to mean "okay." I guess meeting up with me wasn't as important as he thought the previous night. But who was I to fault him? My perception had changed dramatically from the time I'd spent at Newt's to the next morning.

That afternoon, I'd gone over to the DAR to volunteer for bingo, making small talk with Mrs. Jenks and Mrs. Connelly and the other regulars that I'd gotten to know since I'd started volunteering there. My mom had been an active member for as long as I could remember, serving as the chair of philanthropy and fundraising, and while it had always been expected that I'd put in time when I was old enough, I'd managed to find my own place there. I doubt my mom imagined that her daughter would call out bingo numbers of all things, much less enjoy it, but it was something I looked forward to every weekend that they needed me.

I spent most of my time there on Saturday distracted, though. I was thinking about Emmett, about Friday night. I mentally tried to gather all of the information I knew about him, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to know more. So when I got home, I went immediately to my closet to find my yearbooks. I pulled out every one I had, from seventh grade on. I cringed at some of the photographs chosen, not just because of what we were wearing (_what were we _wearing?), but from a photography aspect, too. Some were fantastic, but most were mediocre at best. _Not that you're a professional, Rosalie. _

Wearing Emmett's hoodie and surrounded by class pictures, autograph books, and yearbooks (green and gold for middle school, red and white for high school, all embossed with my name on the front cover), I settled onto the floor of my bedroom.

And I stalked the past.

I skipped the lower grades, the class pictures and the autograph books that we used early on in life, before yearbooks came into play. Prior to the rezoning, Emmett and I weren't in the same school anyway. So I started from the oldest, thumbing through the pages until I landed on the one that held his face. It was then that I realized that he'd signed by his picture, probably when we passed our yearbooks around during the final days of school. I hadn't asked him to since we didn't really talk, but things were different then. Middle school had been more all-inclusive than high school.

It was a short message, _Killer spike, _and his name, the E and the Mc strong, with the rest of the letters scribbled. I smile now, thinking about how I nearly took Edward's head off with the volleyball during gym class when he was probably staring at Bella. Selfishly, I wished there was more to the message, more of an indication of what made seventh grade Emmett tick. However, I was a little surprised that he'd remembered my volleyball skills from the beginning of the year enough to write anything at all.

Maybe it was because I'd nearly decapitated his best friend? Or maybe…

Maybe.

I wondered if I had signed his yearbook. What had I said? Did I just sign my name, making the dots on the i's into flowers as a totally (not) clever ode to the nickname I'd been given in elementary school?

I knew his picture wouldn't be in the next yearbook, but I still searched for his face and name among the other eighth graders, my fingers trailing over the other M's. There was no space between Carmen Martinez and James Mercer, but I still noticed the gap.

Emmett McCarty disappeared in eighth grade.

Or at least it seemed like he did. We all came back from summer vacation, tan and bored in only the way that kids without any responsibilities can be. We were still bitching about homework and school, though. It seems laughable now, given how insane my schedule got once I hit high school.

But Emmett didn't come back. I remember the empty seat next to Edward at lunch that first day and the rest of the week. A week turned into a month and then the entire school year passed without Emmett. I heard through the middle school grapevine that he'd gone to live with his dad in Port Angeles, but I didn't know why. Edward didn't given me a reason the one time I asked when passing his front yard on my way to Jess's house. I'd said it so casually - "so, where'd Emmett go?" - but I remember even now how all the blood rushed to my head and my heart. Edward had just shrugged, equally casual as he dribbled a soccer ball across the grass. I knew he knew exactly where Emmett had gone and why, but apparently it hadn't been his story to tell.

When Emmett showed up again, it was three weeks into our freshman year at Forks High School and a month into my relationship with Roy. He and I had spent all summer together, and not just together with our friends, like it always had been. We were _together _together, just the two of us. He was cute and our parents had always been good friends, so they didn't put up too much of a fuss when we wanted to go to the mall or a movie. He acted so cool at first, like he didn't care, but the tips of his ears always went red when he talked to me or looked at me. And when he held my hand as we walked down the hallways at our new school, it was like it was supposed to be.

But then I'd seen Emmett walking down the hall with Edward, laughing like he hadn't been gone for the past year, taller and tanner and god, _so _cute and my heart pounded like it never had with Roy, not even when he kissed me for the first time. When Emmett passed by us, his eyes flicked down to Roy's fingers threaded through mine before moving up to my face. And then he looked past me. Even at fourteen, still so new to relationships and boys, I felt like I had lost something important.

My loss was every other freshman girl's gain, though. I wasn't the only one who noticed how much he'd grown while he was gone. I kept secret tabs on girls he dated over the years, the ones that he took to dances, who wrote his jersey number on their cheeks and _woo_ed for him at football games.

I shake my head, pulling out of the memory to focus on the task at hand. The note is folded into one of those mini versions of an origami fortune teller, without the numbers or colors for guessing. It's not as overt as the 88s the girls who are part of the Emmett fan club sport on their face for the pep rally later today, but it's my way of reaching out. My way of saying that in no way, shape or form did I forget any part of Friday night, including when he called me beautiful.

I didn't sign my name to the note. I just hope he'll know, because somehow, in our all too brief interactions with each other, he seemed to get it. He seemed to get _me. _

Glancing around the corridor, there are a good number of people around. Neither his regular crew nor mine are in the immediate area, though, so I flatten the note as far as it will go. It easily slides into the locker. I hear it land on the books inside, which is all the reassurance I need before walking the few feet to my own locker.

Back to where I belong.

Back to where I'm expected to be.

And not a moment too soon.

I hear them before I see them, their voices carrying around the corner. I busy myself, turning the last digit of my combo and flinging the door open to make it look like I'd been there for a few minutes.

"Posie! Where the hell were you hiding all weekend?" Lauren demands, and we're right back where we started, except now she's wearing her cheerleading uniform.

Jess leans against the locker next to mine. In her hand my camera dangles from the strap. "I believe this belongs to you, darling."

"Thanks for keeping it safe, Jess. Sorry I was MIA. Homework and family stuff. You know."

They accept my excuse at face value, not bothering to ask more questions. Their acceptance makes me feeling like a grade A asshole. These are my _best friends_; why don't I just tell them what happened?

I just... don't.

Lauren checks out my outfit before threading a red ribbon through my hair. "I'm surprised you aren't all decked out in your red and white for the pep rally. Where's your school spirit, Hale?"

Truth be told, I'd been so wrapped up in back stalking and dreaming of Emmett's words while sleeping in his hoodie (I'm pathetic, I'm fully cognizant of this fact), I'd forgotten about the pep rally altogether until I walked into the school. Not to mention that when I scrolled through my phone to _maybe _call Edward on Saturday to _possibly _hear Emmett in the background, I found that he'd taken the liberty to add his own number to my phone sometime the night before.

Right there, nestled above Crowley and Cullen... _Creep. _First name, _Weirdo._

I'd smiled when I saw it and kept going back to it, looking at the seven digits and memorizing the number. That's not to say I called him. I could have. And I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But everything that I thought of sounded stupid - practiced and rehearsed and just plain stupid. So rather than sounding stupid, I wrote him a note. When weighing the options of stupidity, this seemed like the least stupid way to go.

Of course, this is before I feel him, his eyes boring into mine as he walks down the hall, exuding the quiet confidence that I don't possess. He's headed toward the very locker holding the (now stupid) note that I dropped in there. I give a low groan, wondering if I can fit inside my own. Just climb in there and shut the door, hide out for the rest of the day. Now that I see him, I don't know exactly what to do with myself and that simple _thank you _I wrote sounds...

Well, you know.

Lauren is talking to me about something - what to have for lunch or how she heard the teachers are voting for Homecoming court this week (the teachers chose the Homecoming court based on student leaders and who they deem worthy, as opposed to Prom, which is all based on popularity), which means court will be announced _next _week. For all I know, she's telling me how to solve the country's economic crisis. It's all white noise. All of my energy is focused on Emmett, while acting like none of my energy is focused on Emmett. He's opening his locker now, pulling the door toward him. It's only a matter of time until he sees that folded-up piece of paper.

My cheeks are hot and I duck my head, pretending to dig around for my Calc book so Jess and Lauren won't see. If they do, they'll know something's up.

This is my secret still. I want to keep him close. Maybe it's also that I don't know what else to do, what I want this to be.

"...Your boobs are way too big for strapless, Stan. Did you seriously learn nothing from Prom?" Lauren is saying. Her fingernails tap against the locker next to mine, an unconscious habit. She always does it while she's waiting.

"Whatever, like nips slips are so rare in this day and age."

My attention slides back to Emmett. I watch him through gaps between the bodies separating us. He's wearing his football jersey with jeans and white sneakers as scuffed as the linoleum beneath them. I can see the ever-present baseball hat sticking out of the back pocket of his pants, the muscles in his forearm move as he - _shit shit shit_, he's unfolding my note. I want to run away and get closer at the same time. I can't look away. It takes him half a second to read it and my heart starts pounding when the corner of his mouth pulls up.

And then we do that thing where you're staring at someone, thinking you're being sly, that they'll never look your way. But suddenly his eyes dart to me and I'm caught in his gaze for a split second, tethered by this crazy electricity. It moves through me even after I look away, which is immediately, and I have to bite my lip to keep from making some sort of noise.

What is he thinking? That it's dumb? It's dumb, of course it is. It's a note that just says _thank you_. What does that mean, _thank you_? I'm not even sure they're the words I wanted to say, although I can't really think of what else I _could _have said, not now.

Not yet.

"Rosalie!" Jess practically bellows in my ear.

"_What_?" I whirl around, my heart dropping and then rebounding at lightning speed. I'm startled and annoyed at being interrupted in my gawking, so I come off bitchier than I intended. She and Lauren exchange a look, then turn back to me, eyebrows in their hairline. "What is it?" I repeat, calm and placid, clearing my throat primly.

Lauren gives me a dry smile. "There's this thing called homeroom we're supposed to go to. Not sure if you're familiar with the practice."

I turn to Jess. "Aw, Mallo's trying out sarcasm."

"It's precious," Jess clucks, reaching out to pinch Lauren's cheek. She smacks Jess' hand away, rolling her eyes.

"Well, _I'm _going," she says, walking backwards. People make a path for her, which is a good thing considering she isn't watching where she's going at all. "You two slackers have fun. See you in English."

"She calls us slackers yet doesn't have an AP class anywhere on her schedule," I muse as she strolls away. Tyler finds her halfway down the hall and slings an arm around her shoulder, pulling her around the corner. I can hear her laughter even over the buzz of voices.

Jess turns to me, her expression serious as she tucks back the ribbon that's wrapped through my hair. "You okay? You seem a little... I don't know. You seem a bit out of it. Is it because of that douchebag, Roy?"

It seems like cheating to not only rely on the Roy excuse but to also let him take the fall and be referred to as a_ douchebag,_ as Jess so delicately put it. My out-of-it-ness has absolutely nothing to do with Roy. I briefly think about confiding in Jess, pulling her to the side (you know, somewhere that doesn't include Emmett standing five feet from us) and telling her exactly what happened. But god, how would that go over? My prediction: not so well. She doesn't exactly err on the understanding side when it comes to high school politics, even if she is a bit gentler than Lauren.

"Um, Rosalie?" A quiet voice interrupts us. Jess looks annoyed, but I'm grateful. I turn to see Angela Weber hovering nearby, seeming almost nervous to come closer. Even though we're in a few classes together, I don't know her very well. She's always been quiet, has kept to herself.

Then again, so have I with people I don't know. People in glass houses...

"Oh, hey Angela." I smile warmly, trying to make her feel comfortable.

"Do you have a minute? I have a question." Jess raises her eyebrows at me, obviously wondering what Angela Weber could possibly have to ask me. Really, it's sort of bitchy. "It's about the school paper," Angela clarifies. I know she's caught Jess' look and feels the need to clarify that it's "business" related, although it's not necessarily _my _business. I've never really had much to do with the school paper other than answer random student polls or give quotes about the honor society.

"I'm gonna go, Posie." Jess hitches a thumb in the direction of her homeroom. "Have fun," she tacks on, as though I'll be having anything but.

"Later, Stan," I say, quick and dismissive, hoping to convey how annoyed I am with the attitude she's putting out. I turn my attention back to Angela, who's standing there silently. I can still see Emmett over her shoulder, sort of half-frowning at me. What does _that _mean? "What's up, Angela?"

She launches into her spiel and I can tell by the way she's talking that she's rehearsed this. "Well, I was talking to Bella on the way in to school today." She pauses and looks concerned. "You know Bella, right? Bella Swan? Edward's Bella?"

"I know who Bella is, Angela," I say with a quiet smile, hoping that it puts her at ease.

"Right, well, I was talking to her and mentioned that Marcus, who usually takes pictures during the pep rallies, is sick today. And normally, I would cover for him but I'm supposed to write an article about the rally. So she mentioned that she knew you took pictures because, like, she's seen you with your camera and sometimes in the photo lab." She gestures to my camera, which is still in my hand. "And I see you that you _have _your camera with you. So basically, I was wondering..." she trails off hopefully, asking without actually saying the words.

"If I'd take pictures at the pep rally?" I prompt her. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Emmett, leaning against his closed locker, listening to the entire conversation. He's nodding absentmindedly at something Alice is talking about, but his eyes are on me, raising goose bumps on my arms.

"Yes! I mean, if you're not busy with anything else."

Being involved with the paper and yearbook is something I've always considered but haven't ever done due to my required commitments. Now the opportunity is presenting itself without any strings attached. I can help out this once, and if I don't like it, I'll be done.

I nod once, resolving to do something for myself, something I _want _to do. "Sure, I'll help out."

"Wonderful," Angela breathes out and pulls a page from her notebook - it's all the shots they're hoping to get. I glance at it quickly with her, then promise to meet her a few minutes before the pep rally to talk about where I can stand to get the best pictures. With that, the second bell rings and she scurries off.

The halls are clearing, students filing to the rooms they belong in. I place my camera at the top of my bag and start walking toward my own, taking my time since my homeroom teacher occasionally runs late herself.

Making an attempt at casual, I flip my ponytail over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse, a mental snapshot of Emmett.

Only to find him a few paces behind me.

He's got this lazy grin on his face, a book and spiral notebook clutched in one hand, and I slow my pace until we're actually walking together. He looks sideways at me, something I notice he does a lot, but doesn't say anything.

"What?" I ask finally. The hallway's nearly empty now, save for a few stragglers running for their classrooms.

He raises an eyebrow. "What?"

I raise mine back and his smile widens. "Are you following me?"

"Do you want me to follow you?"

"Do you always answer questions with questions?"

"No." He flashes his dimples, obviously fully aware of his charm. I let out a delicate snort, trying not to show how it affects me when he's this close, or by the fact that we're walking together. There's really no one around and it's not like we're doing anything crazy like making out in the middle of the hallway, but my heart's still pounding.

Actually, now it's pounding harder thinking about making out with him.

"Earth to Rosalie." Emmett waves his hand in front of my face.

Dammit, he's been talking and I've been thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him. Even the thought makes my knees weak, which has never happened from a kiss or anything else, much less from the possibility of one.

"Sorry, what?"

Emmett smirks like he somehow knows what I was thinking. "I _said_, you're going to take pictures at the pep rally?"

"Following me _and _listening in on my conversations?" I shoot back, trying to get back on even playing ground. "Wow, you're right, you are a creep, Creep." His laugh, low and almost intimate, washes over me. "Angela seemed like she was in a bind and I've got my camera here, so...no big deal."

"It's really cool, though, that you're helping her out," he replies.

I look over at him and see the small grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Maybe I've just gotten too used to my friends' attitudes regarding things they deem unworthy of our time, because his compliment and the earnest tone of his voice catch me off-guard. It also makes me feel as warm as the smile he's wearing.

"I want to do it," I say with an honesty that almost surprises me.

"And here I am thinking you're being selfless," he teases. His dimples deepen as he shoots me a sly look.

I laugh. "I was being maybe eighty percent selfless." He's still looking at me with that small, soft grin, and it's so distracting that I almost walk right past my homeroom. "Oh, uh, this is my stop." I hitch my thumb toward the open door, then raise an eyebrow. "I guess I'll see you later?"

He nods once, murmuring under his breath, "You can count on it."

It's almost embarrassing to admit how much I do.

**xoxo**

Gyms smell awful. They just do. No one's ever walked into a gym and said, "Wow, it smells good in here." There's that lingering smell of old sweat that never quite goes away.

Add in the entire student body and all the teachers and it's just a cacophony of stink rather than sound, although the sounds currently coming from the gym could be described as cacophonous as well. The band is warming up and random cheerleaders' voices ring out with shouts of "Go Spartans!" Lauren's voice is louder than the rest when she yells, "Go Tyler!"

Jess and I both quit cheering before high school, but Lauren has always loved it and became co-captain during our junior year. Bossing around the girls on the squad is the perfect leadership role for her.

"Oh, there's Mike!" Jess links her arm through mine and starts steering us in his direction. "Come on, Posie."

Somewhere along the way, Jess stopped referring to him as Newt. She simply calls him Mike now, or Michael when she's feeling especially mature. She's only Stan to him in group settings. When she sleeps over and they talk on the phone at night (we can always hear them, cell phones do nothing for privacy), it's always Jess or Jessi. Secretly, I've always envied that simple show of closeness between them. It was a place Roy and I never got to.

My eyes jump around the room, searching for Angela. I don't see her, so I figure I have a few minutes before I need to set up. We get to where Mike is milling around with a few of the other football players. My blood is racing, skin tingling, at the thought of seeing Emmett again. He isn't in the cluster of football players, and I try to focus on my friends instead of spending the entire time I'm talking to them looking around, distracted.

I don't know most of the guys on the team that well, so it's weird standing amongst them, not really knowing what to say. I'm uncomfortable in my skin, a stranger trying to act familiar. The discomfort comes and goes, but it's in situations like this that I feel it the most.

There's a jarring blast of music followed by a hiss of feedback, adding to the mess of sounds and scaring me half to death. The techies scramble to fix it quickly. Jess doesn't even notice; she's too busy bouncing next to Mike, bopping her head and lip syncing to the rap song now being pumped through the PA system. I don't say anything. I just stand there with my camera in one hand and the other on my hip. My eyes search the crowd, secretly seeking out Emmett while pretending like this isn't completely awkward. Jess looks over her shoulder at me, grinning with her hand wrapped around Mike's bicep. She's at home in any kind of party atmosphere, even when it's school-sponsored and alcohol isn't involved. Give her danceable music and a crowd and she's happy.

I'm the odd woman out of our little clique, I guess. Lauren and Jess live to socialize and do so effortlessly, no matter where we are or whom we're with. I've never been able to do that. Honestly, nothing makes me more irritable than being surrounded by people I don't know, particularly in loud, noisy situations. I'm decidedly out of my element right now.

It must be written all over my face. My thoughts are a jumble of _this music sucks_ and _it's getting hot in here_ and _where the hell is Emmett? _James Mercer strolls by me, his jersey pristine because he rarely gets off the bench. He smiles as he passes, probably not realizing that it looks more like a leer. The smile I try for comes out feeling (and probably looking) like an awkward facial tic, but I don't have the patience to pretend. I barely know the guy anyway.

His eyes narrow as he mutters, "Such a bitch."

_I'm standing right here, ass, _I think, but I don't say anything. I've heard it enough that the word "bitch" doesn't hurt, not from someone who hasn't taken the time to get to know me well enough to learn it's not true. I'm not even sure he knows what my face looks like; his eyes are almost always focused on my chest. If he calls me a bitch now, I'd love to know what he'd call me if I said what I think every time he looks at me: "My eyes are up here, asshole."

When I look to my left, Emmett is suddenly there, standing not five feet away with Jasper. He's got his arms crossed - god, his _biceps_ - staring James down. James is completely oblivious as he pushes past Emmett to exchange some stupid boy handshake with Laurent. Emmett's gaze shifts to me briefly and he shakes his head back and forth, just once. It's quick; anyone else would think he was answering Jasper, but I know it's for me.

He's telling me he knows that I'm not. It's a reiteration of what he said in Edward's yard and now, in this context, it means that much more.

I catch sight of Angela, a small notebook in her hand, talking to Bella and Edward, who's wearing his soccer jersey. Jess is still talking to Mike, so I lean over and give her a peck on the cheek. "Stan, I'll see you later. Have fun, Newt."

Mike is bobbing his head in time with the music, too. They really make quite a pair. "Later, Pose. Don't forget, my house after the game. Celebrating our win and my arrival into this world eighteen years ago."

"Not until next Thursday," Jess reminds him, giving me a look like, _can you believe this guy_? Mike's parents are in Seattle for the night, but won't be out of town again for a couple of weeks. He takes every opportunity they're away to throw a party, but this one will probably be a rager given the extra reason for celebration. Sometimes I wonder if his parents know what he does when they're away, but the house is always cleaned up by the time they get back. Besides, they raised his brother and sister before him; at this point I think as long as Mike doesn't knock Jess up or get arrested, he's on a pretty long leash.

Mike throws her an indulgent smile, and then points at me sternly. "Win. Birthday bash. Be there."

I choose to ignore the party comment since I'll be cutting out of there early. _No need to tell them that. _"I love how you say win like it's a done deal," I say instead.

"Well, it is."

Jess grabs my hand. "Wait, where are you going?"

I blink, holding up my camera. I told her and Lauren about this in English. They'd exchanged a pretty pointed look, so I know it sunk in. "Pictures, remember?"

"Right." She drags out the word. Now it's my turn to give her a look. She winces and then smiles, more genuine. Sometimes all it takes is the bitch brow to pull her back from Stan, the girl who cares about appearances and what's cool, to Jess, who supports her best friend no matter what. "Hey, all right, Posie. See you later?"

"Yep, later," I say shortly.

The gym is packed with students, so I have to push my way to Angela. She's alone now and is clearly relieved to see me. She launches immediately into where I should stand, reminding me of the shots she'd like me to get. I let her talk; nodding with what I hope is an encouraging smile on my face. I can't help thinking of the look on her face when I walked up. It's obvious she was afraid I'd bail out on our arrangement. I wonder briefly why she didn't just seek me out, but then I think of Jess and Mike and the group we were surrounded by. I think about my own discomfort being in the middle of it. I can't imagine how Angela would feel having to approach us, especially after the not so warm welcome Jess gave her earlier.

Regardless, I'm here now and the anticipation that has been growing since she asked me to help out is back in full force now that I've distanced myself from my friends, now that I'm on my own.

Pep rallies and overt displays of school spirit aren't really my thing, but through my camera lens I see things differently. Watching the world through the viewfinder gives me a new perspective. I sit cross-legged on the gym floor in front of the first row of bleachers, blocking everything beyond my little square inch of sight.

Seeking out a test shot, I find Bella and Edward, just before she pulls her hand from his, their faces close as they lean together. A quiet moment amidst the chaos. And then, it's on. I snap shots of Principal Greene at the podium in the middle of the floor, of Coaches Clapp and Berty and the football and soccer teams behind them, ready for a brand-new season. I get Lauren, pom poms resting on her hips, an exhilarated smile on her face, her cheeks tattooed with red and white Spartans. I get a cluster of freshman sitting on the bleachers not far away, a little scared and kind of in awe, and laugh to myself. I so remember that feeling. Hell, I _still_ get that feeling sometimes, and I'm at the top of the high school food chain.

Through the lens of my camera, I lose track of space and time. Everything's happening around me, but thanks to my official role as memory-capturer, I don't have to take part in them. The cheerleaders lead the student body and teachers in chants while I continuously snap pictures, relieving me from the requisite answer to their call. Each varsity player is announced, soccer first, football team last.

I see them line up near the end of the gym. They're ready to burst through giant sheets of paper the cheerleaders and the dance squad made with the player's names and numbers, one for offense and another for defense. Some of the students have those annoying clapper things. I swear the guy sitting behind me is clapping it directly next to my ear. I scoot forward, attempting to not only get away from him but to get a little closer to the gym floor, where I know Emmett will be soon enough.

Coach Clapp has the microphone and he's doing his very best announcer voice to introduce each player. It's all very _let's get ready to rumbleeeeeee._"Next up, we have number 88. Emmett McCarty, tight end."

"Yeah, he does!" Kate, Tanya, and Charlotte shout back. This is their "thing" - they do it always. Every. Single. Time.

Usually, I just roll my eyes. Now? It pisses me off.

Emmett jogs toward center court, raising his hand to the crowd, hamming it up all along the way. I busy myself with my camera, taking shot after shot. I'm pretty much staring him down, using my camera to save me from total creeper status. I can see him scanning the crowd and when he finds me, he points and winks.

Yeah, that's the money shot. He also just about made my heart leap out of my chest. I hope it's not too obvious. God, it probably is.

It takes a ridiculous amount of effort to swing my camera back to capture the last introductions instead of keeping it on Emmett, but I have a job to finish. I'm sure Angela would be less than impressed if the majority of my shots were focused on one player instead of all of them.

After what feels like forever, the rally wraps up. Students head for the doors leading to the parking lot, but I hang back to chat with Angela for a few minutes. I show her a few of the pictures on the preview screen, then get her email so I can weed through the shots and send the best along to her. She thanks me profusely and I assure her that it wasn't a big deal. I actually liked it.

A lot.

Before heading out to the senior lot, I run back to my locker to grab the books I need for homework. Of course, my locker is in the complete opposite direction of both the gym and the parking lot, because that's just the way things work in my world. Spinning the dial on my combination, I pop the locker open, only to have a note fall out. I catch it before it hits the ground.

It's folded plainly, in quarters. Jess and Lauren usually decorate the outside with flowers, but this is just a small slip of paper, no extras. I hastily open it, eager to read what it holds.

_Your welcome._

Really? _Really? _I still have the pen in my hand from when I scribbled Angela's email address on a sheet of paper. Grabbing the same piece of paper, I tear off half and write:

_"It's __you're__. Do you need an English tutor? Maybe I could help you with that."_

When I walk past 346, I slide it into the slats without hesitation.

The hall near the gym is quiet now; most everyone is outside in the parking lot. Someone's bass pumps faintly through the glass doors, but other than that, it's quiet. Just as I'm making my way past the gymnasium doors, they swing open and Emmett, Jasper and a few of the other guys from the team walk out.

He and Jasper exchange a look and he hangs back until he's walking next to me.

"God, you're everywhere these days, huh?" I tease him. It feels natural, easy, and I realize it's getting easier every time we talk. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth unconsciously.

"I've always been here, Rosalie. Maybe you're just noticing me now."

My answer is quiet, but the sentiment is not. "No, I noticed you before, too."

He smiles, but doesn't say anything for a moment. Hesitance flashes in his eyes before his hand rises up to my ponytail. "Hold still a minute."

"What? Do I have more grass in there or something?" I try to make a joke, to sound nonchalant, but my voice trembles slightly. If he notices, he doesn't show it. He just pulls his hand away with a small smile. I see the red ribbon dangling from it and I look up at him, questioningly.

"I'm just taking a piece of you. For good luck," he answers quietly, making my heart flip flop. I swear, being near him must be putting stress on the old ticker. It's constantly doing acrobatics in there.

We're nearing the door to the lot and I know that I'll be heading in one direction while he goes in a different one. I have to do something. "Give me your hand."

"What?" He looks between us, down at our hands, and I can tell I'm sending the wrong message.

I stop, pulling him off to the side. "Let me see your hand, _Creep_."

He silently holds his hand out, biting his lip and smiling. I take it in my own, keeping it still as I write my cell number on it. His fingers are long, his palm warm. I want to trace the little lines along it, memorize all of them. There's something about his hand that makes me want to take it, hold on to it, refuse to let go. I've never been much of a hand-holder, but Emmett's are made for it. I don't know if it's how big they are, how they'd make mine feel small and enveloped. Or maybe it's just that they're attached to _him_.

I think it's entirely possible I'm becoming attached, too. The more time I spend with him, even in these tiny increments, the more I want to know about him. It's not just that he's gorgeous, that he has a smile that turns me inside out. There's still so much to learn about who he _is_.

"There, now you have my number, too," I say quietly. My heart is going crazy, pounding hard and fast, but not out of nervousness. I'm exhilarated by what I've just done and especially by the goofy grin on his face.

"I'll never wash this hand again, Hale," he teases with a dramatic sigh, then bats his ridiculously long eyelashes for good measure.

I still haven't let go of his hand. I don't want to, but it'll probably get awkward if I don't. I ghost my thumb lightly over his palm, just to remember how warm it is, before releasing him.

"Well, at least wait until my number is in a safer place. I wouldn't want you to lose it."

His voice is low, his eyes fixed on me. "Not a chance."

That look makes me flush, makes me want to grab his hand again. Instead I throw him what I hope is a confident smile and turn on my heel. I don't look back, but I can feel him watching me as I walk away.

It's the second time today I've done something _I _wanted to do, something that's just for me. It feels good. Ridiculously good. In the scheme of things, it's small, but somehow I get the feeling it's these small steps that might lead me in a new direction.

Maybe even in the right one.

* * *

><p>Your reviews, alerts and favorites mean so much to us. We've been pinching ourselves, and each other 'cause it feels good. Thanks for the support! Thanks also to these awesome people: Jan and H, our wonderful betas, and V and JD, our full-support bra. ;)<p>

Hey, so if you want to talk to us, we hang out on Twitter. Come find us at HotMessica. We're posting visual inspiration (particularly of our Emmett, who is extremely yum), teasers...all kinds of good stuff!

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	5. Chapter 5 Taking Chances

Chapter 5 - Taking Chances

For the rest of the night, I think about the seven numbers I wrote on Emmett's palm and what they mean. I'm not sure what I _do _want, but I'm sure of what I _don't_ want: for whatever _this _is to go away. It feels too good, too right.

I wonder what it means to him.

I keep my phone with me all night, even through dinner. My dad eyes it sitting on my placemat, tucked next to the delicate bone china plate. Then his BlackBerry rings and he excuses himself, his business-brisk voice drifting down the hallway as he goes to his study. I'm left in peace to stare at the screen, halfheartedly eating my grilled chicken and salad as my mom makes cooing noises at Eric, who's curled up at her feet.

"Can I be excused?" I ask finally, tired of sitting here when I know I'm not going to finish this meal, not with the nervous state my stomach's in.

My mom raises an appraising eyebrow, eyeing my plate. "Not hungry?"

I shrug. "I've got a ton of homework to do before bed. I want to get started on it sooner rather than later."

As expected, my excuse gives me the green light. She nods, then reaches over to lay her hand over mine when I stand, picking up my plate. "Leave it, sweetie. I'll get it. Go get your homework taken care of."

My dad strolls in just as I'm going out and he ruffles my hair as we pass each other. Sometimes this is the only interaction we have at this table, short conversations about how school's going and what I'm learning. Usually he or my mom will ask me about Roy, too, but not tonight. I had to admit earlier that we broke up when he didn't come over for our standing Monday night study date, which was usually less about studying and more about him getting to third base.

Somehow I don't think my parents would be quite so dismayed by the news of our break-up if they knew what Roy did to their little girl while they were right downstairs.

I rush through my Calc homework and slog through the reading assignment for English. I'd rather do proofs all day and night than read one word of _The Iliad_; math is easy for me and makes sense. There's an answer for every problem, cut and dried. There's nothing subjective about it. For not the first or eighth or eightieth time, I'm glad I talked my parents into letting me take a regular English course instead of an AP one.

I fall asleep with _The Iliad _on my chest and my phone in my hand.

It stays quiet until six the next morning, and even then it only blares my alarm. I don't have to press the snooze button; I'm out of bed and in the shower before I even fully realize I'm awake. My morning routine is a blur; I put my makeup on and dry and curl my hair, shimmy into my best jeans and pull on the purple blouse that Jess says makes my eyes look "ridiculously gorgeous."

I know I look beautiful. I've always acknowledged the fact, in a detached sort of way. But there's something about the way Emmett looked at me on Friday night that made me _feel _beautiful, and not just in appearance. I want to feel that again. It's only one of the reasons I'm so anxious to get to school. I don't know if we'll talk, but we'll at least look. Maybe that's all I can handle right now anyway.

But when I get to school, he's not at his locker. I look for him in the hallways between classes, but he's not there either. I always noticed when he was here, but now I notice when he's not, too. His absence is almost bigger than his presence. It irrationally annoys me that I'm so aware of him, and that not seeing him affects me like this. Jess and Lauren give me shit for being cranky all morning.

"Is it Roy?" Lauren finally asks. We're at my locker just before English and she's leaning against the one next to mine, her head resting against it. Her fingers _tap, tap, tap _against the metal and I stare at them pointedly before meeting her gaze.

I let out a sharp sigh.

"It's not Roy, Mallo, okay? I'm fine. But seriously, if you don't stop with the tapping, I'm going to take you out."

Lauren snorts. "Yeah, I'd like you see you try, Posie. You may be tall but sometimes a lower center of gravity can work to your advantage."

My center of gravity all but floats away when I see a folded up note resting on top of my Chem book. Placing my hand on the top of it, I palm the note, not wanting to take the chance of Lauren seeing it and asking questions.

Her fingers are going again, pulling me back down to earth. I shoot her a half-hearted glare that she ignores. "Did you do the reading for Berty's?" I ask as I shut my locker. The note's burning a hole in my palm; I'm that anxious to see what it says.

"The book was open while Tyler and I were... um, doing things. Does that count?"

We walk to English side by side as people automatically move out of our way. "Oh, I'm pretty sure that there's some sort of studying osmosis that happens when you have a tongue shoved down your throat."

Lauren giggles. "Oh, that's not where his tongue was-"

My hand goes up in the air, and I squeeze my eyes shut like somehow _that _will prevent me from hearing her. "I'm not listening. This is me, not listening. You might as well stop talking now because I'm _not listening."_

Lauren takes pity on me and stops talking, which I appreciate since there's really no need for me to hear the details that she's so apt to share.

My body seems keenly aware that I'll be seeing Emmett soon, a quiet hum working its way through my nerve endings when we reach the door to our English classroom. The thought that he might be out today passed through my mind, but the presence of the note has proved otherwise and I'm quietly anticipating our interaction, however brief it might be.

Jess is already sitting in our usual spot and Lauren bounds over to her, talking like they haven't seen each other in ages rather than two periods. Sliding into my seat, I glance over to see they're fully involved in their conversation, not paying attention to me. Furtively, I unfold the note, pressing its edges down so that it's flat against my book.

_You're __a grammar Nazi. Is that better? Wait, are you offering to help me with schoolwork or are you using that as an excuse to get me alone?_

I duck my head so that no one notices the blood rushing to my face. He's got me completely figured out.

That's when I feel Emmett; my skin tingles when I realize he's here, in this room. I look up and see him walking by with Edward and Bella. As he passes my desk, his eyes skim my face. He's trying to be slick, so it's brief, but I feel it. I feel beautiful, the way I did Friday night. It feels like he's seeing me differently than any other guy ever has.

His attention lands on the note. He reaches his hand down, slowly so as not to attract any attention, and drums his fingers along the edge of my desk.

Tapping is suddenly glorious.

Acting on impulse, I reach my finger towards his, and they hook for a fraction of a second. When our skin touches like this - secret but not - it's like going down the first hill on a roller coaster, an exhilarating rush that floods my body, jump starts my heart adrenaline and catches my breath. And then he's gone, moving back to his desk, and _I'm_ as good as gone for the rest of class. The rest of the day, really.

It takes me a full minute before I can look at anything but the top of my desk. My heart is flying, racing down that proverbial hill. I'm so incredibly aware of him in the room with me. I can still feel him, but now only his eyes.

Jess and Lauren are talking next to me, but I don't join in on their conversation like I usually do, even though we have at least another minute of socialization to squeeze in. All I can do is listen to the sound of Emmett's low voice mingling with Edward and Bella's soft laughter. I want to turn around so badly, to look at him and see if he's as affected by me as I am by him. Instead, I stare down at his note one last time before I cover it with my notebook. I'm almost relieved when Mr. Berty starts class and I have to focus on the discussion of the previous night's reading. It gives me something else to put all of this energy into and gives me a distraction from the boy sitting in the back of the classroom.

Jess and Lauren whisper and pass notes through all of class, but for once I don't join in. If they notice, they don't act like it's weird, just sweep me up right when the bell rings and pull me out of the classroom. I only get a brief glimpse of Emmett before we get out into the hallway. He's got his hand on top of Bella's head, guiding her playfully down the aisle, but his eyes are on the doorway. On me.

"So, what are you getting Mike for his birthday?" Lauren asks Jess, threading her arm through mine. Jess gives us both a look, smirking, and Lauren rolls her eyes. "You can't re-gift him your virginity, Stan."

"Shut up," she laughs, smacking Lauren in the arm.

"What about you, Posie?" Lauren turns to me and arches an eyebrow. As we weave through the thick crowd, she tightens her hold on me.

"Uh, I'm still thinking about it." The truth is, I haven't though about it at _all. _And now, not only do I have to find a present for Mike, I have someone else to buy for. It'd be kind of shitty to show up to Bella's birthday party without a gift.

"Shopping trip after school?" Jess pipes up, her voice lifting with excitement at the prospect.

I shake my head, extracting myself from Lauren's grip as we get to my locker. "Can't, I have an Honor Society meeting. You guys go ahead. I'll take care of it on my own."

Jess seems a little put out by my refusal, but then Lauren starts talking about how they should make a pit stop at the lingerie place if Jess _really _wants to get Mike a present, which lifts her spirits. They flit off down the hallway, calling out "bye, bitch!" (Lauren)and "have fun being honorable!" (Jess),and generally making a spectacle.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. I don't see Emmett again, but I tuck his note into the back pocket of my jeans, keeping him close in that way.

I'm so distracted looking for and thinking about Emmett as I make my way to Mr. Medina's classroom after school that I don't notice Roy until we nearly run into one another in the doorway. I'm honestly a bit surprised to see him here. After all, he's got so many activities: soccer, debate, NHS. Usually the Honor Society falls low on his list of things to attend. But here he is.

"Oh," I say, brilliantly.

"Go ahead," he replies, sweeping his arm out like it's some sort of grand gesture to let me pass through first. He's doing that thing again where he acts like he doesn't care, and it's just uncomfortable, so I scoot past him into the classroom without another word.

Roy and I were invited into the Honor Society our sophomore year, much to our parents' delight. He didn't really give a shit about it, but he joined anyway, partly because his parents wanted him to have something to add to his already impressive list of accomplishments. I have a feeling the other reason was because he wanted to spend time with me, although he never said it. He acted really unaffected most of the time, but he had these fleeting moments of vulnerability that caught me off-guard – a soft kiss or a lingering touch. Sometimes he'd come over to my house after he and his dad fought. He rarely said anything about it, but that indifferent mask he wore would be gone, replaced by something sadder. We'd put on a movie (always his choice) and he'd sit close to me, holding my hand. It was those moments that made me feel less like the girl he _should _date and more like the girl he wanted to be with.

Part of the problem, though, was that those moments became fewer and far between, until I felt like all he saw was who he _thought _I was, as opposed to who I really am. I think I was a great idea, and maybe he was, too, at first. But in three years, we never got beyond that. We never went too deep.

That's not enough for me anymore. I don't understand how it could be enough for him either, why he would want us back when we weren't enough to begin with.

I chew on my pen cap while Mr. Medina goes over the agenda, distracted by my thoughts. I look over my shoulder at one point, shivering when I feel the weight of someone's eyes on me. Roy is sitting one row over and three desks back, slouched down in his seat. His gaze shifts quickly to the front of the classroom when our eyes meet. I'm all too aware of him, though, even after I turn around, and it makes me squirm in an entirely different way than it does with Emmett.

After Mr. Medina gives the precursory overview of the agenda, I step up to lead the rest of the meeting. You might think that something like this would freak me out, public speaking. Surprisingly, it doesn't. When I have a script, an agenda and a goal, I'm fine. It's only when I'm left to my own devices that I get myself in trouble.

Like after the meeting when Roy follows me into the hall.

"So, what? You're just going to ignore me now, Rosalie?" he asks, somewhat loudly.

I can feel the attention from the students who have just exited the room with us. There's one of two ways I can play my part in this. I can either do what I've done for the past, I don't know, _forever_, or I can just flat out say what I'm thinking, consequences be damned.

I decide on the latter. What do I have to lose?

"I'm not ignoring you, Roy. I just thought... you might want some time." I try to say it quietly, gently, but it's difficult with him glaring and everyone staring.

He's trying to keep his cool but his hands are balled at his sides, betraying his effort. "We're in high school. All we've got is time. Why'd you blow me off on Saturday?"

My eyes flash to the people around us. They've all but stopped talking. I swear they're leaning in so they don't miss a word. I step closer, hissing at him, "Well, seeing as how you _broke_ up with me, I figured you didn't really mean to ask me out on a coffee date. You don't take someone out for coffee when you've _broken up with them._"

He stares at me for a moment, then lets out a soft snort. "Thanks for confirming what everyone's been telling me for the past three years, Rosalie."

It's a final dig, and while I know he doesn't really mean it, that he's just saying it to get under my skin, it does its job.

I'm done with this. Done with this conversation and done with the implications that I'm a bitch for finally doing what I've _wanted _to dofor a long while. I turn on my heel and walk away, my silence sending the message that my words cannot.

To him it says, _I know you're disappointed, but I am, too. _

To them, all it says is _bitch, bitch, bitch._

I can't bring myself to care.

When I get to my car, I fish the folded piece of paper out of my back pocket and grab my phone. I don't know if it's the conversation with Roy that fuels my fire, but without a second thought (usually I'm all about second thoughts... and thirds), I pull up _Creep _and press the _text message _button.

My fingers fly over the screen as I quickly type out a message: _Do you need to be tutored or are you using that as an excuse to get ME alone?_

I press send before I lose my nerve. My phone buzzes in my hand almost immediately, and I smile like a fool, feeling the heavy weight of my interaction with Roy evaporate completely.

_Why do you have to turn it around on me? And do you always answer questions with questions?_

Oh, really now? It doesn't go unnoticed that he's throwing my words back at me from our conversation in the hall the other day. My face burns with the thrilling realization that he's paid close attention to them, just like I have.

_I think that I asked you first if you need a tutor, so technically speaking, you're turning it around on me. _

I sit anxiously, alternating between staring at the screen and out the window. The parking lot is pretty deserted and I don't see any of my friends' cars, but I do a precautionary sweep anyway. I nearly jump when the phone vibrates again, even though I'm expecting it. I'm such a geek.

_I want to hang out with you. If you want to call it tutoring, that's cool too. _

_Holy hell. _Not gonna lie, I do a stupid little happy dance in my car. Happiness is a few simple words from him with the implication of more.

I catch sight of myself in my rear view mirror and lean forward, pulling it down so that I can get a good look at the girl I barely recognize. I'm smiling like a total idiot and my eyes are a little glassy, like I've been drinking. He does make me feel drunk, though - dizzy and floaty in a good way, but also on solid ground.

I don't know what it is about him, but in the past few days, with just a few interactions, I suddenly feel like taking chances, like stepping outside my comfort zone and seeing what can happen. I've spent so long inside this little box that's been built around me - by my parents, my friends, even by me - it's like I'm peeking out and Emmett is the sunshine and fresh air outside. He represents the possibility of things I could have if I stretch my legs, if I just trust and let go.

But the reality is, there are people who probably won't understand that. I've always been Posie and to them I always will be. The expectation has been set, and I don't know how to change that, especially where Emmett is concerned. It's always at the back of my mind, wondering what Jess and Lauren and everyone else would think if something were to happen between Emmett and me. I'm sure Lauren would have an opinion and would give it freely, but part of me wonders if she and Jess would be happy for me after the initial shock wore off.

I guess that's a little horse before the cart_,_considering we've shared only meaningful looks, a smattering of touches and some mild, mutual flirtation that makes my heart want to beat its way out of my chest and walk itself right into Emmett's hands.

And now text messages, of course. Text messages that say he wants to hang out with me, tutoring or not. How do I even respond to that?

Oh, right. With words.

_Well, I AM hanging out with you on Friday. _

I don't wait for a response this time. I've been sitting the parking lot for way too long, staring down at my phone and probably making the most ridiculous faces. My car doesn't exactly blend in - a red Beemer for my sweet sixteenth, _thanks Dad_- and the last thing I want is to be spotted just chilling out here, smiling to myself like a crazy person.

Besides, I have a little shopping and a lot of homework to do. And probably some daydreaming, too.

Oh, who am I kidding? It'll be mostly daydreaming with a side of homework.

I'm sitting cross-legged in bed later that night, hunched over my AP Chem homework with Eric next to me when my phone chimes from the nightstand. I pounce on it, telling myself it's probably Jess or Lauren so I don't get my hopes up.

But my hopes _are_ up and when I see _Weirdo_ _Creep_ on my screen, it goes straight to my chest. I think this is going to kill me before I even get a chance to see where it might go.

_Good point_, his message reads.

His response is simple and doesn't really give anything away, but he wrote me back. That has to mean something, right?

Ten seconds later, another message pops up.

_So what are you wearing? _

I nearly fall off my bed, first from shock and then from laughter. I can almost imagine the devilish grin he probably had on his face when he sent it, his cheeks a little pink like they were on Friday from the fire.

And maybe from me.

"Rosalie, are you okay?" My mom's voice drifts up from downstairs. Eric is barking at me like a maniac. I shift, pulling him into my arms and put my hand over his snout. He growls, but quiets down. Little monster.

"Fine," I call back, pressing my hand against my forehead and looking down at my phone. I can barely make out my reflection in the screen, but I don't need to see my face to know I've got the goofy expression going again. I hope to god she doesn't come up here, because there's no way I can get away with saying my AP Chem homework has me this bright-eyed.

When I'm sure she's gone back to the living room, I go back to my phone, back to Emmett. I feel almost feverish, my blood pulsing wildly through my veins. It's heady, a little dizzying, but in a good way.

And now? I'm going to make him fall off _his _bed.

_I'm wearing your hoodie…_ I type out with a smirk.

I'm actually wearing his hoodie with sleep shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, but I don't share the extra articles of clothing. I want to see how he'll react, if at all.

_You're killing me_

The smirk morphs into a euphoric smile. Obviously I _do _have the same effect on him.

I bite my lip, wondering how to proceed. I'm not exactly a pro at flirty texts. I finally settle on, _you probably want it back at some point, right? _

The phone vibrates again.

_Nah, you hold onto it. I like the mental image more than I like the sweatshirt._

Oh, god. I'm dead. He's killed me. I have no reasonable response to that, so I fall onto my back, nearly crushing Eric in the process. I cover my mouth to muffle my giggle as Eric jumps off the bed with a huff.

If I was dizzy before, it's nothing compared to the feeling rushing through me now. My cheeks are hot from his words and our exchange. I don't know what it is about him, but I do know I want more of it.

A lot more.

**xoxo**

We continue stealthily texting back and forth the next few days. I'm basically walking around with my phone in my hand at all times. Which is really no different than before, but it feels different now. Everything does.

The texts are about nothing and everything. Sometimes it's inconsequential - like that he's at the bakery picking out a cake for Bella because the owner is an old family friend so he gets a discount. Sometimes, it's more telling, like the fact that while he's at the bakery, he's also getting cannolis for his grandma since they're her favorite and she's not feeling well.

I'm walking to Calc on Friday morning when my phone does that tell-tale buzz in my back pocket. Since I'm alone, I check it then and there, right before I go into the classroom.

_What time do you think you'll be leaving MN's? I can meet you at the corner of Valerie St._

The bell rings so I fire off a quick answer, my fingers flying over the screen. _Not sure, hopefully not too late. Save me a big piece of cock._

As the little bubble turns green and the words fly from my phone to his, I stare in horror. _Cock._

Auto correct. It must have been auto correct, because it's not like I go around chatting about cocks on a daily basis. I mean, okay, a little. With Lauren and Jess but... no.

That was _not_ what I wrote. _No._

_No._

_No._

"_No!_" I wail, cursing technology. What happened to the days of carrier pigeon?

"Ms. Hale? Will you be joining us or should I move the class into the hallway for your convenience?"

I look up from the screen. Mrs. Sulpicia is standing in the doorway, an annoyed expression on her face. After muttering the proper apologies, I skulk my way into the classroom, still holding my phone, appropriately mortified.

"Phones off, people." It's a general announcement that she makes at the beginning of every class, but today it seems to be directed especially toward me.

Speaking of the offending piece of technology, mine buzzes in my hand one last time as I sit. I peek at it, almost scared to see how he responds.

_Moving a little fast, aren't we, Hale? _

Holding the button down on the top of my phone, I shut it off before sinking down into my seat.

Excuse me while I go die now.

**xoxo**

"Nachos are a girl's best friend," Jess practically squeals as the underclassmen at the concession stand hands her a heaping pile of semi-stale tortilla chips drenched in artificial cheese sauce. He stares at her, mouth slightly agape, as she dips her finger in the cheese and brings it to her mouth, letting out an orgasmic groan.

"You're giving the kid a hard on, Stan. Dial it down," I mutter under my breath, my lip curling up in disgust as she swirls her finger into the fake cheese again.

Jess ignores my comment, nudging me away from the concession stand with her shoulder. There's a long line snaking behind us; it's halftime at the football game, which apparently equals _snack _time. I don't know why, but the concession stand is always packed and Jess is one of its most loyal customers. She gets nachos every game, without fail, always moaning and groaning over them like she's never had them before. Considering she's had some of the best cuisine from all over the world (her parents are travel nuts), it's a little ironic that it's the nachos at Forks High School's concession stand that get her all hot and bothered.

Sometimes I wonder if her and Mike's foreplay involves imitation nacho cheese or something, because her excitement over it is completely suspect. Of course, then I have to do a mental brain bleach because..._no_. I'm still scarred from the time I overheard her having phone sex with him during a sleepover last year.

Sex inevitably makes me think of Emmett, which inevitably makes me think of our text message exchange earlier. My entire body flames with humiliation. I saw him at his locker after school and he could barely look at me, he was laughing so hard, his shoulders shaking and the back of his neck adorably red. He caught my eye for a split second when Lauren and Jess weren't looking, and the smile, those dimples so deep, made my stomach quiver and my eyes roll simultaneously. _Stupid auto correct. _I know he'll give me shit about it later.

_Later_. My heart skips just thinking about it. I feel like we've set some kind of foundation for what might happen tonight. For what I _hope _happens tonight. I can't deny that I've thought about him walking me home, without Bella this time, and what might happen in the darkness of my driveway. Just the thought of it makes me come alive. I'm so aware of what he does to me and I love it, want to feel it all the time.

I've been watching him on the field the whole night, my eyes glued to him. I've always been aware of him out there, but tonight it feels like more. I have this sense of possession, like he's mine, even in secret. I want to yell out and clap when he makes a tackle or gets the ball, but I can only bite my lip and follow him with my gaze, staying with him that way.

I hope he feels me.

"Hey, the stands are this way, Posie," Jess says suddenly, yanking on my arm.

I was so caught up in my thoughts of Emmett that I've wandered completely off path. Jess is oriented toward the metal bleachers, one hand cradling her precious nachos and the other one on my elbow. She's wearing Mike's letterman jacket, the hood of her cashmere zip-up pulled over her head, and she's staring at me like I'm a little unstable.

Okay, maybe I am.

"I'm going to hit the bathrooms real quick," I say, hitching my thumb toward the gym.

"What, you don't want to use the Porta-Potty?" Jess asks, smirking.

The name alone is enough to make me shiver. There's no way I'm stepping foot in that thing and Jess knows it. She laughs at the look of horror I'm sure I'm wearing and waves me off with an extra-evil little giggle.

I roll my eyes and stuff my hands into the pocket of my jacket. "I'll meet you back at the bleachers in a minute, okay? And be sure to save me some of those quality nachos."

Jess flips me off over her shoulder as she strolls off.

There are packs of students everywhere. I catch a whiff of pot from the tree line as I walk up the path to the school. The band is still playing, doing their halftime show, which is a dedication to Broadway musicals. The laughter from the pack of girls in front of me floats through the air as they link arms and bend their heads together.

Only when we enter the school, under the harsh fluorescent lighting, am I able to see that it's Kate, Charlotte and Tanya. The three of them are holding blue Slurpees, which I'm pretty sure have a vodka topper. I follow them into the bathroom attached to the gym, quietly listening as they talk about the game. Slipping into the stall, I hover-squat, trying not to touch the walls or well... anything. Public bathrooms are gross - there's no two ways about it.

"Em looks so good tonight," I hear one of them, maybe Tanya, say. I exit the stall and go to wash my hands. Yeah, it was definitely Tanya.

They all look up at me for a second and I force a smile, because it's what you're supposed to do, but I know it comes off cold. The trio returns the gesture. It reminds me of Stan and Mallo's fake smiles: thin, no teeth.

"Em looks so good _every _night," Kate amends as they turn back to the mirror and each other. They continue talking about him as they touch up their make-up and the 88s on their cheeks. God, I really do have so much I could add to this conversation, but I keep silent. I have to practically bite through my lip to do so.

We finish in the bathroom at the same time and I wind up walking behind them again, this time back down to the field. The team is huddled together on the sidelines, going through some ritualistic pep talk where Coach Clapp yells and they all grunt and yell back and smack each other's asses.

They break right before we walk past. Apparently that gives the girls permission to shout out "Go Spartans!" and "Yeah, Emmett!" And of course, they make the obvious comments about a tight end.

I sneak a glance at him. His jersey is pulled up, hanging around his neck as he adjusts the pads hugging his ribs. He scans the crowd and then finds me, briefly. His hair is damp and curly, sticking to the nape of his neck, his eyes bright and brilliant underneath the stadium lights. He smiles right at me, to me, and then one of his teammates shoulder-checks him to reclaim his attention. I keep my gaze on him, though, shamelessly. The Under Armour shirt he's wearing clings to his body like a second skin. I can make out the outline of his abs beneath it. I don't have too much time to ogle them, though, because something else catches my attention: a red ribbon tied to his shoulder pads, fluttering in the light breeze.

_My _red ribbon.

My heart stutters in my chest and just before he pulls his jersey back down, he smiles while tugging at it. I know he knows I'm watching.

I float back to the stands.

Charlotte, Kate and Tanya go on talking and speculating about whether Emmett will be at the party at the reservation later that night. And usually, I'd keep my smiles on the inside. But damn it, right now? I'm smiling. Sure, it might be slightly smug, but I don't care. Because I know he won't be at that party, and deep down, I think they know that he won't be there either.

I know exactly where he'll be.

With me.

* * *

><p>You guys are awesome and we love all of your reviews, alerts, favorites...all of it! You make us goofy-smile.<p>

Jan and H cleaned this chapter up. V and JD left us lots of love notes. We'd totally wear their ribbons. ;)

We'll be back on Thursday!


	6. Chapter 6 Party in the USA

Chapter 6 - Party in the USA

_Emmett's wearing my ribbon. _

That ribbon is all I can think for the rest of the game, which, true to Mike's prediction, we win. It's all I can think about when I catch Edward's eye as Jess and I walk past him, Bella and Alice in the stands after the game. He lifts his chin, and all three of them give me conspiratorial smiles. Jess is so busy craning her neck to look for Lauren that she doesn't see me wave, a quick wiggle of my fingers.

A dizzy rush of anticipation hits me. In just a few hours, I'll be back in Edward's backyard, where all of this started. I'm already thinking up excuses to leave Mike's fast, which makes me feel like an asshole because they're my friends, too, and it _is_ his birthday party. I mentally justify my actions, pushing down the guilt: _they'll all be too drunk to notice anyway _and _I _am _going home, just making a pit stop _and _they'll be fine without me. _

But most of all? _Emmett's wearing my ribbon. _

We all migrate to the parking lot and get into our cars, revving engines and honking horns and whooping out the window. Roy's BMW creeps past just as I'm about to slide into my car, the tinted windows rattling from his music. I can't see him, but I know he's looking at me. He guns his engine and takes off, leaving me in a cloud of his exhaust.

Cute.

Jess rolls up next, steering with her knees so she can flip off Roy's car with both hands. She grins and while a part of me appreciates her loyalty, another part of me thinks she enjoys the drama. I just want it to be over with. I'm tired of talking and hearing about it, being in the middle of a situation that no one else wants to let go of. I already have.

"See you at Michael's?" Jess asks, swaying with Lauren to her music.

"Yeah, I'm just going to swing by my house and get Mike's present." _And Bella's_, I think to myself, but of course don't say it out loud.

"Hurry that sweet ass up!" Lauren yells, leaning across Jess's lap so she can wave a pompom at me. I give her a sarcastic thumbs up and then they're gone, intermingling laughter and music wafting out the open window.

I duck my head as I situate myself into the leather seat of my car. The lot is an eclectic mix of vehicles, everything from newer BMWs and Lexuses to Mirages and Jasper's clunker (still sitting over near the gym, next to Emmett's Jeep). The cars are just another indication of the variety of students who go to our school, their attitudes and status.

And I know, just from my seventeen years on this earth, that it doesn't change much out in the real world.

When I get to my house, I ditch my car and grab my bag. Lauren likes to joke that it could carry a small child, but tonight it holds Bella's present, which is strategically covered by Emmett's hoodie. Mike's gift sits on top, with my camera nestled in next to it. The house is quiet save for soft music wafting in from the living room. My dad must still be at work.

I peek around the corner to find my mom sitting on the couch, her legs crossed at the ankles. Eric is, of course, sitting regally next to her. A glass of wine sits on the table next to them. "Hi and bye. I'm going to Mike's," I say.

My mom looks up from her book and nods with a small smile. "Sounds good. Remember your curfew." She glances down at her watch. I don't know if the gesture is for me or if it's for my dad. I wonder if she ever gets lonely here, if the silence bothers her, too.

I shift from one foot to the other, gnawing at my bottom lip, suddenly hesitant to leave her alone. "Okay. I'll see you later." I start toward the front door, but stop and backtrack. "Love you."

"Love you, too, sweetie." Her smile gets a little brighter and the heaviness in my chest gets lighter.

Walking the short distance between my house and Mike's, I pass Edward's house and note that while Edward's car is in the driveway, Jasper's and Emmett's aren't there yet. I turn the corner at Valerie, taking in the number of cars lining the street. It's a little overwhelming. Of course, it _is _Mike's birthday party and the team just won the game; I don't know why I'd expect any different.

I slip in through the side gate, making a beeline for Mike and Jess. They're walking around like prom king and queen, welcoming people and accepting presents, some of which are just ridiculous and totally over the top. Somewhere along the way, gifts became less about what our friends liked and more about one-upping the next guy.

I'll admit that I've fallen victim to that line of thought more than once. Lauren's last present from Jess and me was a leather Coach bag with a matching wallet.

It's only when I started thinking about what to get for Bella's birthday that I realized this. So instead of getting something extravagant for Mike, I went personal. I had a slew of pictures I'd taken of our group of friends over the years: pictures from football games of years past, of us hanging out in his yard, of us in sixth grade with really unfortunate haircuts. We've been through a lot together, so I created an album of all the pictures I'd taken over the years. I spent some time in the photo lab on Thursday, during lunch and after school, so I could add the pictures I'd taken of him and Jess at the pep rally. I'd also stuck in a shot of him and the team, the same one that Angela informed me would be running on the front page of the paper on Monday, much to my surprise.

When I hand Mike's gift over, Jess tucks it under her arm and starts to walk away, undoubtedly to add it to the already massive pile of gifts that have accumulated, but I reach out, stopping her.

"Actually, I'm going to have to head out early. So um, Newt, if you just wanted to open it now..." I don't know why, but I'm a little nervous about this gift; it's like I'm giving a part of myself with these photographs. Besides, Mike usually makes a production out of opening his presents, and I don't want him opening mine with an audience.

"Rosalie Lillian Hale! Why do you have to leave early?" Jess's hands go to her hips, like she's waiting for a good answer so she can figure out if she should act appropriately pissed or sympathetic. I knew the question and opposition were coming, so I figure I might as well put it out there, although I don't answer immediately.

Mike is busy ripping into the wrapping paper. He mutters under his breath, "Ooh, she full-named you, Rosalie Lillian. You better have a good reason."

_Oh, I'll give you a good reason. The boy with the navy blue eyes and the amazing smile whom I've been secretly crushing over for the past forever is meeting me at the corner in the dark. There's no better reason in the world. _

I bite my lip, thinking about the text Emmett sent while I was packing my bag, asking when I'd be gracing them with my presence. When I'd responded that I'd walk over as soon as possible, he'd gone all knight in shining armor on me, insisting on meeting me at the corner. He didn't want me to walk alone, like those few blocks are a huge deal. For some reason they are to him, and it makes my heart do funny things, knowing he'll be waiting for me when I tell him I'm ready.

Jess rests her hand on my shoulder, craning her neck as Mike lets the wrapping paper fall to the ground. His eyebrows knit together in confusion while he takes in the album, but when he opens it and sees the first picture, he laughs. It's a picture of all of us at the country club - Mike, Tyler, Roy, Jess, Lauren and me with my arm looped through Edward's - tiny, innocent versions of ourselves mugging for the camera.

He flips through a few pages, looking up at Jess to give her a smile that I feel like I'm in the middle of, before winking at me. "Hey, this is really cool, Posie, thanks." And then he hands the album to Jess, who tucks it against her chest.

"Our little photographer," Jess coos, leaning her head against mine. I know she means it affectionately but to my ears, it sounds condescending.

Irritation and disappointment bubble up inside of me, making my jaw lock. I force a strained smile, but they don't notice because suddenly Tyler sidles up behind Mike and claps him on the shoulder, thrusting a bottle of Gentleman Jack against his chest.

"Happy birthday, fucker," he says with a shit-eating _I totally won this _grin on his face.

"Premium JD? No fucking way!" Mike crows, snatching the bottle from his hand. He gives Jess a quick peck on the lips and me one on the cheek. "Thanks again for the present, Pose. You're the best." He turns to Tyler, grabbing him in a headlock. "Let's go open this shit."

They wander off, singing the happy birthday song at the top of their lungs, just as Lauren stumbles up, already drunk. They haven't even been here much longer than I have, which means Lauren was doing shots or slamming down beer. Knowing her, it's both.

"My besties," she says expansively, her arms stretched out wide. She has a red Solo cup in each hand, and it's a miracle that whatever's in them doesn't spill.

"I thought you got lost. What were you doing inside for so long?" Jess asks, accepting one of the cups. Lauren turns to me, wiggling her shoulders and swaying the other cup in my face, but I shake my head. I'm still too salty about Mike blowing off my gift.

"Drinks. And maybe Tyler a little bit, too." Lauren shrug-snorts and Jess joins her. They don't even realize that I don't.

_Jesus. Is it time to go yet? _

**xoxo**_  
><em>

A couple of hours later, we're sitting at the pool with our feet dangling in the warm water. Jess and Lauren are draped over each other, laughing hysterically about who knows what. I've checked my phone at least twenty-seven times, but it's stayed quiet, the screen dark.

There have been pockets of entertaining moments tonight, but I'm restless. I'm three blocks away in another backyard already.

I lean back, resting my hands on the ground behind me. My gaze wanders as Jess struggles to get her snorting fit under control. Roy is at the far end of the yard, smoking a joint with some Port Angeles Prep kids. There's a vaguely familiar girl next to him, a sophomore from our school. Vera, I think. I squint through the darkness and see that her hand is wrapped around his wrist.

_Huh._

"Hey, who's that with Roy?" I ask.

Jess tips back and Lauren sways around until she's facing the right direction. I watch both of their expressions morph into disgust, which is...weird. They're acting like they know this girl, but I'm not sure how that's possible since she's a couple grades younger. I know that she moved here from Seattle during the summer. She lives in one of the biggest houses in the development; beyond that, she's a total stranger.

"What's _she _doing here?" Jess snipes, her lip curling up.

"Seriously." Lauren leans in, wrapping her arm around my shoulder before raising her voice so she's basically shouting in my ear. "How he can go from _this _to _that _is beyond me."

Roy looks over at her comment (as do many others; she's fucking loud) and shoots her a dirty look. Or maybe it was directed at me. Always possible.

I have to tell them.

"Shut it down, Lauren." I press my fingers to my temple and look down at the water, embarrassed by her brash behavior. I should be used to it by now. They've always been louder, more vocal than me. Sometimes it's entertaining, but right now I just want to hide. "Listen, you guys. I need to tell you something, but keep it to yourselves, okay? I don't want it to go beyond us."

Jess raises her hand, her expression earnest. "Can I tell Mike?"

"Uh, no. What part of 'don't want it to go beyond us' do you not understand, Stan?" I shoot back, annoyed that she's even asking.

"We promise," Lauren speaks up, and they both try to put on their very best _serious and not in the least bit trashed _faces.

I do a quick sweep of the area with my eyes, craning my head to make sure that there isn't anyone close enough to hear what I'm going to say. Lauren and Jess look around too, tilting their heads and peeking in the grotto. It's too cold to be swimming tonight, even with the water heater on, but that doesn't really stop drunk people.

When I'm satisfied no one's lurking, I turn back to them, keeping my voice low. "I broke up with Roy, not the other way around. He decided it would be better if he told people that he was the one to end it. I just went along because I wanted to be done with it."

"Okay," Jess breathes out, dragging the word for way too long, clearly not understanding the logic.

"He thought it would put me in a better light." They stare at me blankly and I wave my hand impatiently, annoyed all over again with his ridiculous reasons for lying. "You know, since people already think I'm a bitch. It was for _my _benefit."

"Asshole," Jess mutters, glaring over at Roy.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Lauren asks, resting her head on my shoulder. I have a feeling the alcohol is diluting her response, making her sweeter than she would have been about the fact that I didn't share this before.

"I don't know. I guess I was just trying to work some things out in my head."

_And, there's this whole thing with Emmett that's taken over my every waking thought. Not to mention my dreams._

"Fine, we won't say anything. But if push comes to shove, I'm not holding back." Lauren's looking back at the group again, giving them the bitch brow.

I shrug. At this point, Roy's the only one who'll look bad if and when the truth comes out. I'd rather they just let it die here, though. I don't want to deal with the repercussions.

I can feel his eyes on me and I look back over my shoulder. Sure enough, he's staring at me, taking us in. I can tell by his glower that he knows what we're talking about. He pulls Vera in front of him, pressing her back into his chest.

Jess rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "I still don't like him bringing Vera around here -"

Lauren breaks in with, "_We._ _We_ don't like it."

My phone buzzes in my hand and I sneak a look while they continue to rant.

_Soon? _The message reads.

"It's not cool and she like -" Jess hiccups. "She doesn't belong here."

And I know if they aren't accepting of Vera, who comes from money and at least runs with the same type of crowd, although two years younger, there's probably no hope for them to understand what I feel for Emmett. Because if _she _doesn't belong here, how could _he?_

So I have to go there instead.

I text back my answer: _Now._

"I'm leaving," I announce, standing up and dusting off my backside.

"What?" Jess exclaims, her eyes wide. "Don't leave because of her, Posie."

"I'm not."

"Don't go!" Lauren wails dramatically, clutching at my leg. I know she's not as devastated as she's acting, though. Her giggles give her away. Jess rolls her eyes and lifts her cup in a mock toast.

"Get home safe, Posie darling. Don't let the bogeyman get you."

_Yeah, that's definitely not who's going to get me._"Be good, girls."

Jess raises her eyebrows dubiously at Lauren, who's still hanging onto my leg. I have to physically shake her off. She gets clingy when she's drunk like this. She pouts, but forgets to be sad a second later when Tyler sneaks up behind her, crouching down and planting a loud kiss on her neck. Then Mike's there and they're all raucous and yelling and I just drift away, momentarily forgotten.

It's a lot easier to disappear when people aren't looking.

I grab my bag from inside and then dart back out across the backyard, weaving my way through the crowd. I don't look in Roy's direction, but I know he's probably the only one watching me slip past the gate, little Vera hanging on his arm and his every word. He probably seems so impressive to her - senior, soccer star, good-looking, popular, rich. But that's just the shell. Even after three years together, I'm not sure what exactly is beneath it.

I try to forget what I'm walking away from as I make my way down Mike's winding driveway: how Mike brushed off my gift; Roy and all _that_ encompasses; my drunk best friends, whom I'm so out of sync with tonight. It crops up every once in a while, this niggling feeling that I need more from them. But the other times that are good and feel right hide what's missing, or at least make them less obvious.

So, instead I focus on what I'm walking toward: Edward's backyard and the fire pit, mellow music and good conversation.

And Emmett.

He's standing there at the corner as promised. It's dark, even with the fancy streetlights lit, and I can only make out his outline at first. Other than the music coming from Mike's backyard, it's quiet. I hope he can't hear how hard and loud my heart is beating, or how my breath gets just a little bit shorter. If he does, maybe I can blame it on how fast I walked to get to this point.

When I get close enough to really see him, it doesn't make my body's situation any better. He's rocking on his heels, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He's wearing a hoodie with the sleeves pushed up and a backwards baseball hat. And when he smiles at me, all slow and sweet, but sexy too? Like he's been waiting for this, for me? It spreads down my legs to my knees and up to my face, making my cheeks go hot.

I don't know what to say to him suddenly. I try to draw up the courage of the Rosalie who's been text flirting with him all week. But she could hide behind a screen, could think about her words before typing them (even when they come out wrong. _Damn you, auto correct_). Standing in front of Emmett now, I'm not sure where to start, or how.

He takes care of it for me, thankfully. "Took you long enough," he calls out.

I stop right in front of him, inches away, close enough that I can smell clean skin and cologne.

I've never wanted to touch anyone so much in my life.

I shrug and adjust the bag on my shoulder. I try to act casual, like meeting him on street corners is normal. Like he doesn't activate every cell in my body. "Sorry, duty called."

We start walking, our strides matched up, and his arm brushes against mine. He looks down at me, still smiling. Even though my palms are sweaty, I feel kind of peaceful. I feel right.

"Is that what it is?" Emmett asks.

"What?"

"You said duty. Is that what that is?" He nods his head back toward Mike's house.

I think about it for a minute. "Sometimes it feels like it. Lately it feels like it a lot, I guess. They can be kind of a lot to take, especially when I'm the only sober one."

I don't know why I'm telling him all of this, but he's nodding and smiling this really small smile that I think I love. It makes his dimples soft.

"What's this?" he asks, pointing between the two of us.

I laugh, remembering how easy it is between us. It helps me find my voice. "You're _so _fishing right now."

"Maybe." His fingers slide down my palm before threading through mine. "You gonna get caught?"

_I already am. _

We both look down at our hands, happily and easily entwined, before looking at each other, smiling. I wonder what he'd do if I kissed him right here in the middle of the street. Just laced my free hand into his hair and pulled him toward me. Would that be inappropriate? Because I _really _want to.

His cell phone begins to chirp and I start pulling my hand away so that he can answer. His fingers tighten around mine, holding my hand in place, while he fishes the phone from his pocket with his other hand. When he looks at the screen, the easy-going smile (and the dimples that I'm so obsessed with) disappears from his face.

"Uh, sorry, I have to -"

"Answer it, Emmett," I say quietly, gently squeezing his hand. I can tell something's wrong.

He puts the phone to his ear with a frown. "Gram? Is everything okay?"

I try not to eavesdrop but... well, we're attached, so I sort of have to. His voice and demeanor have changed; his features twist with concern, but he's making a concerted effort to sound fine. I'm not sure for whose benefit, mine or his grandma's. Maybe both.

"Did you take the medicine I left on the counter for you?" He pauses, listening to her response. "Right..." His eyes catch mine. "Okay, well, I can come home if you need me to."

I don't know much about Emmett's home life, but from the little that I do know, I think he lives with his grandparents. Or maybe just his grandma. I don't know, so I can only speculate. I _want _to know and I wonder if this is a sore spot in his life, something that's difficult to talk about, or too personal. Last week he'd said that his Gram raised him right, so I'm assuming that she had a hand in making him the person he is today.

"Are you sure? Okay, listen. I'm going to call you in a half hour to check and make sure..." He's listening to her speak again. Then his face breaks out into a smile. "Yeah, we won. Kicked their ass. Sorry. We kicked their _butt. _Better?"

I smile inwardly at this. And then he says something that makes my heart stop.

He obviously doesn't want me to hear it, because he darts a glance at me and turns his head away before he speaks. "With her now."

The words are all blended together and low, but in the quiet night they're crystal clear to me. It takes every ounce of willpower not to react.

She knows about me. He's talked to his grandma about me. _Me. _

I hear a high, thin voice on the other end saying what sounds like "speak up" and Emmett faces forward again, this blush creeping across his cheeks and down his neck. If I wanted to kiss him before, it's nothing compared to now.

"Uh huh, okay Gram, gotta go. You go relax and I'll call you later." He pauses, looking embarrassed and still a little bit worried, and then mumbles out, "Love you, too."

He hangs up and looks straight ahead, his skin flushed pink. We're quiet for a few seconds while I wait to see what he'll say, if anything. Then I drift closer, nudging him with my shoulder until he really looks at me.

"Everything okay?"

He opens his mouth and then closes it, like he wants to say something but can't. And then he stuffs his hand, still intertwined with mine, into the pocket of his sweatshirt. "Yeah, everything's cool. Just my gram checking in."

I nod, running a finger over his knuckle, which is rough, maybe scabbed over. I feel like something's going on, like maybe he needs me, but I don't know in what capacity. I don't want to push, so I don't ask.

I catch his gaze again and his expression morphs into a playful smile. I know this one well. I'm rolling my eyes before he even says anything. "You ready for that cake, Hale?"

"Yes, dick," I grumble, but I can't help smiling.

"No, it was cock," he replies, grinning widely now. "I have it saved on my phone if you want to check."

I stop as all of the blood drains from my face. "You didn't show that to anyone, did you?"

Emmett turns to me, brow creased but dimples flashing. "C'mon now, I wouldn't do that to you."

"Oh, but you'll allude to it every chance you get, I'm sure."

He gives me a look like, "duh," squeezes my hand with a boyish smile, and then we're off again.

Before long, we're walking into Edward's yard. The fire pit is blazing, same as last week, I feel a sense of déjà vu. It's almost like walking in on the same scene, although this week there's a cake involved, which everyone is huddled around. My greeting to them is less shy this time, feels more comfortable. They seem genuinely happy to see me, all of them wearing wide smiles. I don't miss all of their gazes homing in on our intertwined hands, either.

Emmett exchanges a fist bump with Edward, who then throws me a wink. Jasper holds up his hand in a wave and I can't help laughing when I see his shirt, a purple one with "Where's the strippers?" across the chest.

He nods at me. "You like that, huh? It's always the quiet ones."

Alice is wielding the cake knife, pretending it's a light saber, before she hops down from the low rock wall, carefully placing it into Bella's hands. "We held off on the cake until you got here."

I hear Emmett murmur something under his breath about holding the cake, which I pointedly ignore. _Yeah, never going to hear the end of it._

"I'm sorry I'm so late. I couldn't get out of there. You didn't have to -"

Bella cuts me off. "Don't be ridiculous, Ro. We knew you'd be here sooner or later."

"I hoped for sooner." Emmett's voice is low in my ear but I'm pretty sure the rest of them hear it anyway. I wonder what, if anything, he's told them about our interactions over the week.

His comment makes me flush, but I play it off. "I bet you just couldn't wait for the cake jokes," I whisper back. He grins with a shrug, running his thumb across the back of my hand.

It feels so good to be here with him. With all of them, really.

Jasper lights the candles on the cake with a Zippo. At that moment, Emmett's phone rings and he slips away from me, walking off the deck and into the yard. I take the opportunity to pull my camera from my bag, slinging it around my neck.

"Oh, hold on! I need the owl hat Al made for me before we start." Bella races over to the bench and opens a gift bag, pulling out an off-white hat that has an owl design intricately knitted around the border. She places it on her head, bounding back over to us as Alice preens. "All right, carry on."

I busy myself taking pictures, but it feels different here than it did with my friends last week. I'm not picking up my camera to separate or distance myself, but rather to capture a moment I know I'll want to remember.

I smile, turning when I feel Emmett sidle up next to me. "Look at this one," I murmur, holding up the camera so he can see the shot I just snapped of Jasper standing behind Edward, pretending to light his hair on fire.

Emmett's hand wraps lightly around my wrist and he laughs, a low, rumbling sound. I shiver because of his touch and also the way his breath moves my hair, how close he is. "Damn, that is E and Jas in a nutshell. Good job, Hale."

I shrug, hoping he can't see the way his compliment makes my cheeks go hot. By the impish way he grins down at me, I'm guessing he can.

We all huddle around the cake and after a loud, off-key rendition of _Happy Birthday,_ Alice pulls the candles from the cake with a flourish. Bella smears her name on the cake with her pinky before dabbing a dot on each of our noses. I'm not sure what to think, standing there with frosting on my face.

Edward laughs, elbowing me. "It's a Swan tradition," he says, then lowers his voice. "Bella says it's for good luck, but secretly I think her mom made it up or something. We adopted it, though."

I arch an eyebrow. "You know, it's really hard to take you seriously with pink frosting on your face."

He chuckles and shrugs, looking back at Bella.

She picks up the knife she's placed on the table and looks at the cake thoughtfully, as though she's about to perform a surgery. "Let's see now," she murmurs, then starts cutting zigzag pieces forward and backward across the cake, seemingly at random.

"What are you doing?" I breathe out the question, mystified.

Bella shrugs. "Whatever I want. Who says you have to cut the cake a certain way, you know?"

"It's another one of our traditions," Alice speaks up, winking at me.

I nod slowly, repeating what Bella said silently as she starts passing around jagged slices of cake.

_Whatever I want. _

The phrase is so different in this context than it is in mine. There's so much freedom to it, no rules attached or fine print to read. And as silly as it is, I feel like something clicks for me in this moment. It's just a different way of cutting cake, but for some reason it seems so much bigger than that.

I watch as they dig into their slices of cake, laughing and joking around, and it's in this moment that I realize I might have a lot to learn from these people.

**xoxo**

We've been sitting around the fire pit for a while, gorging on cake, when I remember Bella's present.

"Oh, Bella. I have a little something for you." I jump up from my seat and root around in my bag. When I find the package, I pull it out and present it to her with a little flourish. "Happy birthday."

The group exchanges surprised looks.

"You brought me a gift? You didn't need to -"

I wave my hand, stopping her. "I _wanted _to, okay? It's just a little something that reminded me of you."

More than once, I've seen Bella in English with her ever-present notebook, scribbling away. It doesn't look like the kind of notebook someone uses for class. I don't know what she writes in there, but she carries them the same way I carry my camera. I saw a purple Moleskine while I was buying Mike's photo album, and I'd known somehow that she would appreciate it.

Bella tears into the paper eagerly, striping it away from the book. When she holds it up, I'm rewarded with a brilliant smile. I mean, it's just a notebook_,_but I can tell from her reaction that it's a place to write her musings, her inner thoughts and secrets, giving them a home.

"This is perfect." She flips through the empty pages, which are waiting for her words, but stops when she comes across the picture I've slipped in. While I was printing the pictures for Mike's album, I remembered the picture I'd taken at the pep rally of Bella and Edward and tucked it in between the blank pages. "Edward, look at this picture. Oh, I love it so much."

Edward leans in, looking over Bella's head. "That's really awesome. Can you email it to me, Ro?"

"Sure thing," I say with a nod.

I play it cool outwardly, but internally I'm basking in Bella's excitement. It feels good to have gotten this right, especially after Mike and Jess' distracted and lukewarm response earlier. Her gift is so simple, didn't even cost me twenty bucks, but the smile on her face as she looks at the picture of her and Edward is priceless. And when I look over at Emmett, the fire is reflecting off his face. His eyes and smile are full of what looks like admiration, spreading warmth through me.

We settle back into conversation after that, all of us relaxed and laughing. The scene is very different from the one at Mike's. It's so much smaller, more intimate. They have some really random and weird traditions, but it's comfortable. I can tell how much they love each other. I feel like I fit here, right next to Emmett. They're including me, pulling me in even though I'm so new to all of them but Edward. I wouldn't be able to say the same for my friends.

"Way to go on the present," Emmett murmurs in my ear. His hand closes around my leg, and I press my knees together, trapping him there. Our faces are close, our noses nearly touching. "Bella's going to put all of her and Edward's dirty little secrets in there."

I laugh softly. He smells so good, his cologne mixing with the smell of firewood. "How do you know what she writes?"

"I stole one of them once." I must look as horrified as I feel because he cracks up, his eyes squinting adorably. "I'm kidding, Rose. I bet she does write dirty things about Cullen, though."

"I think that's your wishful thinking."

"If you think that, you're confused about who I really like." He leans even closer until his mouth is at my ear. His hair brushes against my temple and I place my hand on his knee to ground myself. He makes me forget my own name when he's this close. "Pretty sure you know her. Maybe you can put in a good word?"

I swallow and let out a breathless laugh. "I'll see what I can do."

He pulls back and smiles, almost shaky, before rubbing the back of his neck. When I look around, everyone is on the other side of the fire, not even trying to hide the fact that they were watching us. Alice grins and then jumps up from her perch on Jasper's knees.

"Oh hey, come check out Bella's gifts, Ro."

Bella moans and groans, cheeks red, but with a little coaxing from Alice, walks me through all of her gifts. Alice proudly holds up the purple Star Wars shirt she got for Bella, who mouths, "Never seen it" behind Alice's back. I swallow a laugh, throwing Edward an impressed eyebrow raise when Bella shows me the beautifully delicate ring he got her with her birthstone. I laugh at the shirt Jasper got for her, which reads "Book Lovers Never Go to Bed Alone" across the chest.

"It's not the books she goes to bed with," Edward calls out.

"That's because you sneak in through her window like a stalker all the time," Jasper drawls.

"Oh!" Bella exclaims, completely ignoring Jasper's comment. Edward, however, reaches over and punches him in the arm. "And Emmett got me a Magic 8 Ball." She holds it up and shakes it, throwing Emmett a playfully dirty look.

I look over my shoulder at Emmett curiously, who's sprawled out on the bench, his hands behind his head. He grins. "It's a practical gift for Swan Lake. She has trouble making up her mind, so now we can leave it to the Magic 8 Ball."

"Cheap bastard," Jasper coughs out behind his fist.

"Please, bitch, I'm doing us all a favor. It took her thirty minutes to decide whether she wanted a burger or a club sandwich the other night."

"_You _could've used its guidance last weekend, couldn't you? Had a little trouble deciding which path to take?" Bella's statement is purposely cryptic, I can tell, and she gives him an innocent smile. I turn fully on my heel, raising an eyebrow at Emmett. He's glaring at Bella but as soon as he catches my eye, he stands, looking nonchalantly at his watch.

"Hey, look at the time. We have to go."

I frown. "We do?"

He nods, tapping the face of his watch. "Oh, we do."

Our goodbyes are quick, as Emmett seems in a rush for something. Once again, we're alone and I'm pretty sure I've figured out what the _something _is. His hand reaches for mine before we hit the sidewalk, only now I'm on his left side, rather than his right. Our hands go into his pocket again, where my fingers find something.

_The ribbon._

My fingers lace around it and he smiles, sensing my discovery.

"You wore my ribbon."

"I did wear your ribbon," he replies, all casual. His eyes flick to me and I bite my lip to stop from smiling like a total crazy person. "I was going to put it in my hair, you know, but I thought that'd be a little obvious."

"Oh, I don't know, you would've looked very pretty."

He laughs and shakes his head. "And people would've started asking questions, which could have gotten awkward."

I look up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_, this you and me thing is -"

"Don't say 'secret'," I interrupt, even though it's the truth. But it's just so new. I'm not even sure it's real right now, me walking with him in the darkness with my hand in his, completely overtaken by his warm palm and fingers.

"What is it then?"

I think this is what he was asking earlier. Now I'm ready to give an answer, though it's not the perfect one.

"It's ours," I answer truthfully. "For now."

He smiles at my answer, his teeth standing out again the dark night. "For now." There's a shift in the wind and I shiver. "Do you..." He starts to unzip his hoodie, but I put my hand over his, stopping him.

"You'll end up with no clothes if you keep giving them to me."

_Actually, that's not a half-bad idea._I take my hand out of his pocket, grinning when he pouts. Pausing in the middle of the sidewalk, I open my bag and pull out his hoodie from last week.

"You're wearing my sweatshirt," he says, teasingly.

I shrug into it with a little smirk. "You have my ribbon, I have your sweatshirt. I'm all about reciprocity."

"_Very_ good to know." He steps forward, brushing my hands from the zipper, and zips it up himself. I stop breathing and look up at him, watching as the tip of his tongue touches his top lip in concentration.

For a second, we just stare at each other. My heart is beating hard against my ribs. The night is so quiet and peaceful, and I think it might happen right here, that I might finally know what his mouth will feel like on mine, how he'll taste.

"Keep going?" he asks in a soft voice. His gaze darts from my eyes to my mouth and back again.

"Okay."

I want to kiss him so badly I almost can't see straight, but at the same time I'm afraid and I don't know exactly why. Maybe because I'll be making the first move, which I've never had to do. Maybe because it's Emmett and he's so much more than any other guy I've ever liked. And definitely because I know that kissing him once won't be enough, but I don't know if that's all I'll get.

He waits until I start walking again and then matches my stride. My hand automatically searches his out. I'm no longer surprised at how easy that feels, how comfortable. My house is just ahead and once again, I'm dreading it because I know that means I'll be saying goodbye to him.

"Well, this is my stop," I say, stupidly.

He knows this. We were just here last week. At least this week I won't be shaking his hand again. I'm trying to limit my stupidity to once an interaction.

We get to the edge of the driveway and, just like last week, he stops there. I look over my shoulder and see that all the windows are dark. It makes me feel even more secluded with Emmett, knowing that everyone's either asleep or blocks away from us, that we have this moment to ourselves.

"I'll call you tomorrow?" he asks. That's something new; we haven't talked on the phone. It gives me something to look forward to.

"You can call me when you get back to your car. You know, so I know you got there all right," I suggest, which is unnecessary, but whatever gets me a little more time with him. Plus, it seems like a reasonable request considering we don't have a chaperone this time.

Emmett snorts. "Yeah, you think someone's going to kidnap me?"

"Oh, I don't know, a beautiful boy walking home in the middle of the night..." I trail off, borrowing his words.

I'm rewarded with a gorgeous smile. "You have to stop calling me things like pretty and beautiful, Hale. I'm going to get a complex about these girly words."

"Oh fine, I'll try to think of some other adjectives." I'm playing with the sweatshirt's zipper, stalling because I don't want him to leave yet. I'm waiting to see which one of us is going to have the courage to do what I know we both want to. I can see it in his eyes.

The waiting is seriously killing me, though, and when he opens his mouth, I can't help staring at it and wanting him. I step forward. I don't even know what he's saying; I can't hear it over my breath.

I have to do it. I have to kiss him.

I take his wrist and pull him close and then we're pressed together, his chest against mine, our thighs touching. His voice trails off. He looks down at me, so serious, his eyes searching mine, and I close mine when his hand moves up to cradle my face.

"Rose," he says, so quietly I almost don't hear it. I hear him swallow and feel his heart pounding and that's really all the courage I need.

I stand on my tiptoes and wind my hand around his neck, pulling him down to me. His skin is warm against mine. And then his mouth, oh, his mouth finds mine and he takes my top lip between his, soft and hesitant at first, like he's trying me out.

Oh, my god, I'm going to die right here, right here in my driveway. His fingers dive into my hair as he inhales deeply. Our lips part together and thank god he's holding on to me so tightly because when I feel his tongue, I think my knees cease to exist. But if they didn't, this kiss would bring me to them.

He shifts his hold on me, his hands finding my hips. No one has ever kissed me like this before, like he wants to devour me but is holding back, like he's memorizing my mouth and the curve of my waist, where his fingers are now dug into.

I've never felt this, not even in my most intimate moments with Roy (or with myself, which I'm not sure even counts). The way he's kissing me is so brand new.

We pull apart after what seems like forever and no time at all and he leans his forehead against mine. We're both out of breath. I don't know which way is up right now. I'm light-headed, woozy.

"Okay," I say finally, when I've figured out how to speak.

"Okay," he repeats, his voice husky.

"I'm going to go." I don't move and his hold doesn't loosen.

"Okay." I can't help it; I start laughing and then he does, too, and brushes his thumb over my cheekbone. "I wanted to do that last week. I've wanted to do that for a _really _long time, actually."

"Let it be known that _I _kissed _you_, McCarty. Don't take all my glory."

"Fine, you get the first one. But guess what?"

"What?" I whisper.

I watch, mesmerized, as he tilts his head so that his lips are right there, right over mine. I feel them and his words and especially his smile, and our mouths part together as he says, "I'm all about reciprocity, too."

* * *

><p>Oh, hi there! So yeah, we're six chapters in and they finally kiss. Going for the slow burn over here. ;)<p>

Thank you to Accio and H, as always! And our premium JD (motherfer!) and our street. You girls get us and we love you for it.

And a VERY BIG THANK YOU to all of you who are reading and sharing your thoughts with us. The reviews... oh god, the reviews are so amazing and make us grin from ear to ear. We are very lucky and grateful.

This chapter title goes out to Lore and Heart because I like spreading the ear worm. Heh. You're welcome!

See you on Monday!


	7. Chapter 7 Stickshifts and Safetybelts

Chapter 7 - Stick Shifts and Safety Belts

If I thought I was floating when I saw Emmett wearing my ribbon at the football game, it's nothing compared to how I feel after we kiss in the darkness of my driveway. I'm a Rosalie-shaped balloon, gliding happily and blissfully toward my house. My mind immediately rewinds and plays every conversation. I inwardly giggle at the silly things I said, but it's all erased when I remember his comment to his grandma (_with her now_) or the way our friends (they're mine too, now, right?) watched our interactions.

I slip in the front door, surprised to find my parents still in the living room, watching a movie in the dark. My dad's head is resting in my mom's lap and he's dozing as she finishes the movie she obviously picked out. He stirs when I walk into the room, raising his hand before closing his eyes. My mom runs her hand over his head.

"Did you have fun, Rosalie?" she asks.

I feel a flush rise to my cheeks while I press a hand over my racing heart. I let out a breathy "Oh, yes" and she looks surprised but smiles. She mentions that Heidi from the DAR called to let me know they don't need me to volunteer tomorrow. I nod before drifting up the stairs.

I shut the door to my room quietly behind me, leaning against it. Seconds later, my phone rings and it's Emmett, letting me know that he found his way back to his car without getting lured away by a stranger with candy. I change while talking to him and we whisper back and forth, early into the morning hours.

When we're finally passing out from exhaustion, my eyes closed more often than they're open, I mumble, "What are you thinking about?"

And he replies, "The next time I can kiss you. Sleep well, Rosalie."

**xoxo**

Little things keep me tethered to the ground, keep me from drifting away altogether. Things like homework. Things like my conversation with Lauren and Jess (once they've sobered up) about what _exactly _I meant when I told them that I'd broken up with Roy.

But there's always the counteraction.

In between homework, I call or text Emmett, changing his name in my phonebook from _Weirdo Creep _to simply _Em. _

The conversation with Lauren and Jess about Roy is a bit awkward. There's no easy way to say that I felt like he and I outgrew each other while they're still very much _in _their current relationships. I'm not sure they understand my logic or reasons. With a group of three, I guess there's always someone who feels a bit on the outs. Lately, it's been me, though I'm not sure how much either of them realizes it. But then we have quality bestie time, getting mani/pedis and there's that tip of the scales, when everything feels _just so _again_._

I spend a lot of time dreaming about Emmett, the day and night kind. I dream about his voice and his smile, that kiss and his lips and his _hands_. A lot of time is spent on his hands.

All of that dreaming makes me sleep through my alarm clock Monday morning and I jolt up and out of bed. I'm shocked my parents didn't wake me; usually if I'm one minute past my alarm, they're yelling up from downstairs that I need to get going. God forbid I'm late to school. But when I race downstairs after throwing on some clothes - no time for curling my hair, minimal time for makeup - my mom and Eric are in the kitchen with the newspaper.

Damn,the newspaper_._ With all of my mooning and swooning and homework, I've completely forgotten that a new edition of the school paper will be out today. My photos will make their debut for Forks High School's population. I feel a little smile pull at my lips thinking of the _credit: Rosalie Hale _that will be below them.

"You're going to be late for school if you don't hurry," my mom says, like it's some kind of newsflash. She gazes down at the front page casually. I almost go smart ass on her, but her eyebrow is arched, a trait I inherited and therefore recognize. I know exactly what it means: _you're pushing me. _

"I'm going, I'm going," I grumble, grabbing a banana from the counter and an organic granola bar from the walk-in pantry. My ballet flats make a soft _tap, tap, tap _against the granite floors and I lean over, planting a swift kiss on my mom's cool cheek as I go. Eric growls. I nudge softly him with my toe. "Love you, too, monster."

"Have a good day, sweetie," she calls after me.

Yeah, I don't think that will be a problem.

The parking lot is packed when I pull in and I end up at the back of the lot, not too far from Roy's car. I dash past Emmett's Jeep and crane my neck, even though I'm sure he's already inside at his locker. It's crazy that even seeing his car makes my stomach flip. We won't be able to do anything or say anything within the walls of the school, but right now all I want to do is see him.

And see him I do, as soon as I turn the corner to my locker. He's taller than 99 percent of the school's population, so I easily spot the dark curls my fingers got acquainted with on Friday. Not that it matters; I would have seen him whether he blended in with the crowd or not. My body is just attuned to him now. I swear I feel like I'm being physically pulled toward him. And as if he feels it, too, he looks over his shoulder and our eyes meet in a quick and silent hello.

I want nothing more than to march up to him, press my body against his, weave my hands through his hair and pull his mouth to mine. But I don't know if that would be okay, even if people _did _know about us; any kind of PDA gets the crackdown. So instead, I stand in the middle of the hall, my fingers pressed against my mouth. They're a poor substitute.

A soft _thwack _on my head shakes me from my Emmett coma and I look up, annoyed to see Mike, until I realize that a rolled school newspaper was his weapon of choice. I grab it from his hand and unfurl the paper. My pictures are on the front page. "Nice job moonlighting, Hale. You got my good side."

"Nah, you can still see your face," I quip back, borrowing one of my favorite Rizzo lines, the Pink Lady I aspired to be when I was younger (and maybe a bit now, minus the whole pregnancy scare thing). Of course, Mike doesn't know _Grease _so he totally doesn't pick up on that. "I'm surprised your liver is still functioning. Did you have fun after I left?"

"No, Posie. I sat there crying that you were gone. Oh wait, no. That was Stan and Mallo at random points in the night."

"That's no surprise. I am the missable type." I nod sagely. I push past the people standing between me and my locker, anxious to get there so I can make it to homeroom on time. I'm a bit thrown from my schedule, which always makes me feel off-kilter.

Mike trails me, seeing that Jess is waiting there. I glance over at Emmett; he's slamming the metal door shut and stuffing his cap into his back pocket.

"Morning, beautiful," Mike says gallantly, pulling Jess against him and placing a quick kiss on her nose. She giggles and goes straight for his mouth, which is awkward because they're mere inches from me. If I make a wrong move, it'll be a three-way. Apparently _they're _not concerned about PDA.

I clear my throat loudly, but they're intent on ignoring me, so I roll my eyes and busy myself with pulling the books I need for the morning.

The first warning bell rings just after I shut my door. Covertly, I look back to locker 346, although I don't really need to worry about Jess and Mike noticing since they're still wrapped up in each other, doing all the things I long to do with Emmett. He isn't there, but Alice is. She holds up the paper and gives me the thumbs up once she sees that my friends are otherwise occupied. Then she mouths, "Talk later?"

I'd much rather talk to her now. It's not like my friends are paying the slightest bit of attention to me. But she's already backing away, so I nod my head and watch as Jasper grabs her hand, twirling her once before they head in the opposite direction.

"...Posie! You ready to roll?" Jess asks this like _I'm _the one who's been holding _them _up.

"Oh, I was born ready." Awesome. I thought that I'd be able to float a little bit longer but I'm already dishing out the attitude. "Let's go."

Mike slings an arm around her shoulder and she puts her free one through mine, pulling me into them both as we walk toward our homerooms. "I looked at that scrapbook thing that you made for Mike's birthday. Those pictures were fucking classic."

Mike chimes in, "Yeah, that was really cool. Thanks, Rose."

I don't know why this bothers me as much as it does. I mean, they're thanking me, complimenting it in their own special way, but it's empty. Like they're saying the words but don't really _get_ the gift. After seeing how appreciative Bella was of hers, it stings. I wonder if I can make them sting, too. If they'll even care.

"Yep, whatever." I pull Jess' arm off of me. I'm quickly being pulled back down to earth.

Jess flinches and looks at Mike, who shrugs, before turning back to me. Her eyebrow is cocked, her bottom lip puffed out a little. "Look at those claws, kitten. Rough night?"

On the contrary. It's the morning that's been rough, the harsh light chasing away what felt hazy and dreamlike Friday night and through the weekend. I'm well aware that my friends can be like this, wrapped up in their own shit, a little selfish. _I'm _guilty of the same behavior; I know that. But sometimes I wish they'd look beyond themselves and this little world we've never strayed from.

Everyone has the capacity to change, right?

I know I do. Furthermore, I _am_. It's weird, scary; it makes me feel like what's happening is pushing me further from them, but they can't even see it. They have no idea.

I feel like an asshole for snapping, but I can't control my irritation. "Tired," I say shortly. "I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Jess asks, reaching for my hand. I let her catch it, but just briefly before I gesture to my homeroom class.

"Uh, class? I think that's the whole point of this school thing."

Jess turns to Mike. He's obviously uncomfortable with the tension, his eyes roaming the emptying hallway like he's looking for someone to save him. "My best friends are smart asses, Michael. Isn't that cute?"

"At least they're nice asses." He grins and then, seeing Jess's dark expression, adds quickly, "Not that I'm looking. I've never looked. I've heard. From...people."

"Please shut up while you're a little bit ahead. See you at lunch, Posie." She barely looks at me as she tows Mike away, now irritated with both me _and _her doofus boyfriend. I roll my eyes, turning on my heel to go into class.

Between my semi-fight with Jess and the fact that I don't even get a glimpse of Emmett after homeroom or before second period, I'm sure I'm sporting a perma-bitch face. I duck out of Chem for a quick bathroom break, needing to stretch my legs and release some of this pent-up tension. I'm pretty sure I was making my lab partner Ben Cheney nervous with all of my petulant sighing.

I'm stomping down the hallway toward the girls' restroom when I hear a hushed "psst!" I ignore it at first, but it gets more insistent and then I hear tiny little footsteps. I swear to god they sound almost elvish. When I turn around, Alice is making her way quickly toward me, grinning. Her hair is tucked underneath a knit cap similar to Bella's and she's wearing an old Beatles shirt with a cardigan thrown over it. On anyone else (read: me), it would look ridiculous and sloppy, but she pulls it off with style.

"Hey! I saw you walk past my classroom so I grabbed the bathroom pass. Got a few?"

I roll my eyes toward my classroom. "Probably not, but I don't care. I'm absorbing next to nothing today. What's up?"

"Come with me to the art wing." She starts off in that direction, walking faster than humanly possible. I follow her as she speaks over her shoulder. "Mr. B has a prep period and he lets students hang out in there whenever we want."

"That's very generous of him."

Actually, this information doesn't surprise me in the least. I know more about the art wing than people probably realize. When I was a freshman, Mr. B saw me with my camera and offered the use of the photo lab, teaching me how to mix the chemicals and how to time different phases I needed to let each picture develop. Even though I couldn't take his class, he supported my love of photography, answering questions and asking how things were going.

"Yeah, he looks at us as a little family. You know, the misfits. Rather than having us getting into trouble out behind the school, he'd rather have us in here creating something." She holds the door open and waves her arm dramatically. "Step into my office."

A few students mill around, drawing in sketchbooks or sitting on the floor and talking quietly. No one even looks up when we walk in. Alice grabs my hand and leads me to the back corner before plopping down and pulling out the paper from today. Her finger presses into the print under the pictures, the one that carries my name. "You're good, Rosalie."

"Well, thank y-"

"No, like, you're _really _talented. You captured something in these pictures that makes me want to grab some pompoms and cheer for our school. _That's_ talent, Ro, considering that, other than helping with the Homecoming banner, I'm not exactly known for my school spirit. And that picture you gave Bella and Edward? It nailed their connection. Other people take pictures but you…you _capture_." She pauses to take a breath, a smile spreading across her face. "So, I have a favor to ask, if you're interested."

She cuts straight to the chase, probably knowing that I have to get back to Chem. I wish I could stay here. No one has raved about my work, and it pulls me back up from my low. I want to hear more.

"What sort of favor?"

She leans forward, her eyes sparking with excitement. "So, I just started my own Etsy shop, selling things that I knit. Like my hat and the one I gave Bella for her birthday. I don't know a lot about starting my own business, but I _do _know that it's super important to present your products in the best light. And for _my _business, that means the best pictures_._" She tilts her head at that, purposely looking down again at my picture spread across the front page.

"You want me to take pictures for your site?" I ask. I can't hide the surprise in my voice.

She nods, quick and eager. "Yeah, I do. I mean, I don't have money to pay you or anything -"

The expression on her face is almost contrite, but I won't have it, holding my hand up to stop her. "_Pay me? _Don't be ridiculous. I want to do this, Alice." I wiggle my fingers at her, palm up. "Give me your phone. I'll add my number so we can discuss details."

Just like that, I'm floating again. It's amazing how my close friends can bring me so low and people that I'm just beginning to know are taking me so high. Alice has keyed in on something that makes me happy in the purest sense and given reason to it. I don't even know if she realizes it. And the more I think about it, the more I understand she's doing _me _a favor. These pictures could potentially go into a portfolio, could start me on a path to actually doing something with what I'm starting to realize is a legitimate talent.

Digging into her sweater pocket, she hands over a phone that looks like it's on its last legs. "Fantastic! Plus, I'm making something for you right now so you'll be getting an Alice Brandon original out of the deal."

"I can say I knew you _when_," I say dryly, punching in my phone number before passing the phone back to her.

She smiles brightly, pockets her phone and then sticks out her hand. "Great doing business with you, Miss Hale."

I laugh and roll my eyes a little, but we shake on it, both of us giving a nod. Everything about her is infectious, almost magnetic, and I realize as I'm walking back to Chem that it's not just Emmett I want to get to know better and spend time with. This group of people is special; I know it even after hanging out with them a couple of times. I get why Edward defected in seventh grade, even beyond his huge and instant crush on Bella.

Despite Alice's proposal, the rest of the morning drags. I nearly cry with happiness when the bell rings for lunch. I'm out of my seat before anyone else even realizes they're free, flying down the hallway. With my books dumped off at my locker, I hightail it toward the lunchroom.

I push past the people who have decided they'd rather stand in the middle of the hall like annoying human roadblocks than actually, you know, _walk_. That would be much too practical.

Apparently the cluster of girls standing in the doorway of the lunchroom got the same memo everyone else did. I wait approximately two seconds for them to move before I sidestep them impatiently, muttering, "Excuse me."

They scuttle out of the way, but I'm already past them, my eyes shifting to the table where Emmett and Co. always sit. The other four are there, leaning in on a conspiratorial huddle, but his seat is empty.

I swear to god, it's like the universe is laughing at me. Or Emmett is. If he's trying to drive me crazy by being the living embodiment of _Where's Waldo?_, it's working.

And annoying.

What I see next does nothing to improve my quickly darkening mood.

The usual suspects are at _my _table, which, of course, is at the epicenter of the lunchroom. Jess is sitting next to Mike, leaning against him as she waves her hands at Lauren. Tyler is next to Mallo, staring down at his phone in concentration. Sitting next to him is Roy. And next to him, tucked into his side? Vera.

I stop in my tracks, my hand flying to my hip. "Oh, Hale. _No_."

Jess and Lauren are actively shutting Vera out, their bodies turned away from her. But the rest of the table is acting like it's no big deal. I know exactly what Roy's doing - he wants to rub Vera in my face. He thinks he can make me realize what a horrible mistake I made breaking up with him and beg him to take me back. And what a mature way to go about it. Surely I'll come a'runnin', right?

Right. No. I wouldn't have patience for this on a normal day, but today I turn and walk away. I sail out of the lunchroom, even when I hear Jess (or maybe Lauren) call after me. I cruise right on down the hallway and out the front doors. I have no idea where I'm going, just that I'm going away from that. From them.

At first I think it's a mirage, the tall boy loping across the parking lot. A hood covers his head, but I'd recognize that sweatshirt, his back and those shoulders anywhere.

"Emmett!" I call. He doesn't hear me, so I yell it this time and start speed-walking toward him.

Oh, fuck it. He's getting in his car, so I run. I know I look like an idiot, but I don't care. I want to go wherever he's going.

I get to his car just as he's gunning his engine and rap on the window urgently. The sun reflects off the glass, obscuring his face, but I can still see him jump. I wait as he rolls the window down, my arms crossed, and my heart skips when I finally get to see him up close.

"Rose?"

"Are you deaf?" I'm trying to hide how breathless I am. If he didn't see me running after him, I don't want to advertise the fact. "I was screaming your name."

"You were screaming my name, huh?" he repeats, grinning. I love that smile; it's all man and sin and deep, deep dimples.

I need to either concentrate or jump him right here. But because I want to get the hell out of here for a minute, concentration wins. "Where are you going?"

He hesitates, a cloud of doubt passing across his eyes. "Uh...home."

"Can I come?"

His eyebrows flicker up and I can tell he's trying to decide whether to be perverted or not. _Not _wins. "Aren't you going to eat lunch with your crew?"

"If I wanted to eat lunch with them, I'd be in there. I'm here with you."

One corner of his mouth pulls up and his eyes search mine. I'm quiet, hopeful. He doesn't make me wait for long. "All right. Get your fine ass in here, Hale."

I jog to the other side of his Jeep, pull open the door and hoist myself into the cab. Once I'm settled and belted, he peels out of the parking lot. I'm done watching him from the corner of my eye, so I turn in my seat, blatantly staring. "_Beautiful _to _fine ass _in less than two weeks, huh?"

He smirks then and swear to god, I hear angels. I don't even fully understand what he does to me or how, but I like it. "Hey, I'm not the one talking about cocks. Licking the fork and talking about how the cake was so moist and delicious? Yeah, don't think I wouldn't bring that up." He furrows his brow and gives me a mock serious look as I laugh, my cheeks flushing. "Secret's out - you're a dirty girl, Rosalie Hale. You brought this on yourself."

"Yeah, well... don't spread it around. We've all got secrets to keep," I say, thinking about the conversation we had that first night.

"Yeah, I guess we do," he says quietly, flicking his gaze at me before focusing on the road. His fingers drum on the steering wheel, but other than that, it's quiet. No music, no talking. I'm still turned in my seat, my head against the headrest, so I can watch him. After a minute, the silence starts to make me nervous. I've obviously hit some kind of a nerve with a comment that was supposed to be off-hand. I'm not sure how to bring the comfortable ease between us back. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something, _anything _to talk about.

"Alice asked me to take pictures," I blurt out. _Well, that's something, Rosalie._

"For her knitting thing, right? She mentioned she wanted to ask you. Glad to hear she tracked you down." We sit quietly for a moment before he clears his throat. "The pictures in the paper were good. Thanks for getting that one of me in there."

The one of Mike was prominent, front and center. But the paper did a collage of pictures on the inside page, and one of the highlights was the one I'd taken of Em, hamming it up for the camera. Hamming it up for me.

I wave my hand dismissively. "Oh, that was all Angela. And well, you."

"Don't sell yourself short." He reaches over and grabs my hand mid-wave, giving it a squeeze before releasing me. His hand goes back to the gear shift and I let my gaze drift over his fingers wrapped around it, the peaks and valleys of his knuckles, the map of veins underneath his skin. I hesitate for a moment before reaching down to trace where my eyes just were. He shifts in his seat, and I can feel him looking at me. I let my fingers fall in between his. They belong there.

"So, why are we ditching lunch?" I ask after a quiet moment, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. I'm pushing, but it's gentle. I know what my motivation for running was, but I want to know what he's running from, or to. "Surely there are other more important things to be missing. Like maybe English or science?"

He hesitates again, glancing at me quickly. I run my thumb along the side of his hand, which seems to do something to him, or maybe for him. "My gram has been having trouble. Uh, with her meds. So, you know, I worry about her. This past weekend was really...I don't know. Not good." His words are coming out reluctantly, like he's testing me, waiting for me to say something. But when I don't, he keeps going, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. "I just want to swing by and check in on her, make sure she's doing okay. Cool?"

I'm still watching his face and his expression tells so much more than his words do. It's almost like he's nervous that for some reason I, of all people, would be opposed to visiting his gram. "Emmett, I'm fine with that. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Some people get weird around elderly people. And she's really all I've got. She's the one who raised me the majority of my life. I just..." He stops talking and shrugs.

"Hey, I'm the one who crashed your party here, okay? It's cool, really." I tighten my fingers around his, hoping to show him that I'm in. I'm here for him, want to be whatever he needs right now.

We turn into an older neighborhood and he pulls into the small, narrow gravel driveway of an unassuming ranch house.

"You could probably fit at least three or four of my house in yours," Emmett says. It's meant as a joke, but it's hollow. I don't know what to say to that, so I don't say anything, just climb out of the car as Emmett's making his way around the front of it. "You're supposed to wait and let me get the door for you, Rosalie."

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't realize this was 1935. Do you want me to get back in?" I tease, hitching a thumb over my shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Gram's from the old school. This is what we do here."

"Hmmm." I exaggeratedly tap my finger on my lip as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door. "I guess I shouldn't mention the _screaming my name _and _fine ass _comments when I meet her then."

He leans in, his face right in front of mine, and I can see myself reflected in his eyes. "Yeah, probably better leave that out of the conversation." I move my finger just in time, just as his lips meet my own for a brief kiss. "I've wanted to do that since this morning when I saw you in the hall. All that lip tapping. You were sending me signals."

I bring my body closer to his and kiss him again, once. It's not enough. Honestly, I'll never get enough of him. But it's all we can have for now. He shakes his head, as if coming out of a daze before jiggling the key into the bottom lock and opening the door.

"Glad to see you picked up on them," I murmur as I follow him into the house.

He unzips his sweatshirt in the small foyer and hangs it on a hook directly inside the door. "Can I - " He turns, his eyes raking over my body as he realizes I'm not wearing a jacket. I forgot to grab it in my haste to flee. He points to his hoodie. "You're wearing that back."

Normally I would put up a fight. Go all women's rights on his ass, just because I can. It would give him a hard time and get him talking more.

But he's wearing this tight grey shirt that stops me. It's thermal material and stretches across his chest and shoulders, tapers a little where his torso does, and when he runs a hand through his hair the hem of the shirt creeps up just enough to reveal a flash of plaid and skin.

_Hello, jaw. Meet floor._

"Emmie, is that you?" A reedy, disembodied voice calls. It's vaguely familiar, but that's not what catches my attention, distracting me from the Emmett peep show. He blushes scarlet, scratching at a spot behind his ear.

"Emmie?" I whisper, taking his arm. He glares and huffs a bit, but it's good-natured like everything he does.

"Here, Gram," he calls back. My hand slides down to his and I let him pull me down the hallway.

Their house is tiny but immaculate. It's pretty easy to tell that this is his gram's house. In fact, if it weren't for the coats hanging in the hallway and the gym bag on the floor right by the front door, I would never know Emmett lives here. Everything is all flowers with lace touches and dark, ornate wood. It smells like potpourri and cinnamon. It's cozy and warm. Nothing echoes, not even his gram's voice coming from the other room.

Emmett stops in a doorway and peeks in. I stop just out of sight, not sure if I'm supposed to be here. Pictures line the wall in the hallway, the vast majority of them Emmett at various stages of his life. There's one picture of a man and a woman holding a baby. It's time worn, a little yellow, and I recognize the dark, curly hair and dimples immediately. Emmett has his mom's smile and his dad's eyes. I can't help wondering where they are.

"Why are you hovering there, sweetie?"

Emmett looks over his shoulder at me, smiling bashfully, and oh, my god, it's the most adorable thing I've ever seen. I want to take his face between my hands and kiss his top lip, just a soft touch.

"I brought someone with me, Gram," he replies and tugs me gently through the doorway of what I guess is his grandma's bedroom. It's as pristine as the rest of the house, washed in soft colors. Emmett's Gram is sitting in a chair by the window and her gaze moves from a television on the nightstand in the corner to us. Closed captioning scrolls over what looks like _Law & Order. _

My eyes widen. _Holy shit, I know Emmett's grandma._"Oh! Mrs. Connolly, how are you?"

"Rose, dear." Her voice is thin and a little weak, but the surprise is strong. Imogen Connolly is one of the regulars at the DAR and a major bingo enthusiast. I see her nearly every time I volunteer and we always exchange hellos. She usually kicks everyone's ass, and now that I know she's Emmett's grandma, I see the resemblance. Her hair is snow white, but has the same curl that his does. They smile the same, too. Hers is just as mischievous as his. "How are you? I didn't see you at the DAR this weekend."

"Oh, they didn't need me." I can feel Emmett's eyes on me, warm and inquisitive, but he stays silent.

"I'm sure you had better things to do," she says with that smile. I open my mouth to tell her that no, actually, I don't and that I love being there anyway. I don't get the chance, though. She waves Emmett over, her eyes never leaving my face. "What are you two doing out of school? Am I going to get another call from the principal's office?"

Emmett laughs a little. "No, Gram, it's lunch time. And you know I learned how to forge your signature for sick notes a long time ago."

Gram clucks and smacks him lightly on the cheek when he crouches down next to her. "You'd better be lying, Emmett McCarty."

"I am," he says, but when she's not looking, he looks at me and mouths, "I'm not."

I have to press my fingers against my mouth to stop my smile and he watches me, his eyes narrowing.

He turns back to his grandma. "Did you take your pills?" His voice is low, almost conspiratorial, and I take a step back to give them some semblance of privacy. He reaches across her and picks up the pill case on the arm of the chair, popping open one of the tabs to check it.

Gram looks at me indignantly before snatching it from Emmett's grasp. "I've survived eighty-three years without you checking up on me, you know."

"Yeah, well, you had a bad week because you missed a day of meds, Gram, so now I'm gracing you with my presence."

"And the lovely Rose's." Gram winks at me, her irritation forgotten.

"Yes. 'The lovely Rose' and I have to head back to school now, otherwise we'll be late and you might just hear from Principal Greene." He catches my eye and makes a face. His smile is softer now, one that's obviously reserved for special people. Leaning down again, he drops a kiss on her head. "Get some rest, okay? I've got practice after school but I'll call to check in."

It's clear that she's taken the medication she's supposed to. I wonder what happened the other day when she didn't. And I wonder where Emmett's parents are, why he's taken on the task that should have been theirs. He seems a lot older than seventeen right now.

Acting on impulse, I move from my spot near the wall to her chair. I lean toward her, my arm carefully wrapping around her frail shoulders and hug her for a moment. My cheek rests on hers, paper-thin from seeing years and things I've never known. "I'll see you again soon, Mrs. Connolly. Next time I'll pick up some cannolis too."

When I look at Emmett, his expression is unreadable. I hope to god I didn't say something wrong, that there will _be _a next time.

We're quiet as we walk from the house, me wrapped in the hoodie he's helped me into, the leaves swirling around us with the wind. He walks me to my side of the Jeep and helps me in before climbing into the driver's side. I hope he isn't doing this just because he's being chivalrous, like his grandma taught him to be.

Emmett doesn't say anything, just starts the car and begins to drive the path back to school. But I can tell, even without his words saying it, that not many people see that side of him. Behind the easy-going, laid-back attitude, this is where his heart lies. My eyes focus on my hands and I wonder if he regrets showing this to me; if he wishes I hadn't forced myself on him in the parking lot.

_God, I can be so selfish._

I'm starting to get the nervous sweats when he suddenly slams on the brakes and pulls to the side of the road. We both jolt forward a bit with the sudden stop and he shuts off the ignition.

"Holy Je-"

His lips are on mine and his hand is twisted through my hair before I can get out another word. Leaning across the gear shift, I can feel our upper bodies pushing valiantly against each other, but it's not enough. It can't be. He pulls back, for just a moment, and tilts the wheel all the way up. Unbuckling my belt, I climb over the console, straddling his legs with my own.

Our faces are close, so very close, and he kisses his way along my jaw before making his way to my mouth again. My pulse is racing, my heart beating wildly out of control and I press myself into him, giving everything that I have and am. My fingers are at the hem of his shirt and I feel the muscles in his stomach tighten when I touch the skin smattered with fine hair. He groans as my palm flattens again his stomach.

I've never felt like this before. This all-consuming want and need. I don't care about anything but this moment with him.

And then he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. His next words swirl all around us, in the thick air, and I sigh when he murmurs hoarsely, "You're so fucking special."

* * *

><p>Hi! Are you shaking your fist at this make-out cliffie? Never fear - there's more where that came from. ;)<p>

You know who we think is fucking special? You guys for all of your comments here and on Twitter. Also, Jan and H, who sweep up our mistakes, and JD and Val, who give us invaluable feedback. We're surrounded by awesomeness, what can we say?

Radiohead is also pretty awesome for (unknowingly) letting us continue to use "Creep." And, I think we can all agree, for just being Radiohead.

We'll be back on Thursday, per usual. Leave us some love and we'll give you a teaser in return!


	8. Chapter 8 High School Never Ends

Chapter 8 - High School Never Ends

_You're so fucking special_.

I repeat it in my head after Emmett says it, when his mouth covers mine again.

I only feel and hear him, nothing else: his lips on mine, his hands on my hips, gliding up, fingertips getting close to places I'd like him to touch and feel, but only teasing. The sound of his breath and mine, matching the same labored pace. The steering wheel pressed into my back, unless I arch very close to him, which I do. His thighs underneath mine, strong, solid.

This is all I know right now, him and me. My hand finds the headrest behind him and I hold on for dear life, because I feel like I'm drowning. I was right about him that first night; I'm being consumed, but also consuming, so close to him but not close enough.

I think this is what it's supposed to feel like. I think this is what people dream about and hope for. I felt it increasing, watching him with his grandma, and I feel it now. It's wanting him, but needing him too. And not just because he's kissing me like I've never been kissed before (although that's definitely part of it), but because I saw part of his life and another part of who he is, and it just makes him more beautiful to me.

He pulls away and I keep my eyes closed, trying to draw out this feeling, not wanting to forget too quickly. One palm is still against his stomach. I love the way our skin feels pressed together like that.

"Damn. Sorry," he murmurs. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, so I almost don't hear him, but when I open my eyes, I see his mouth first. It's twisted up, which draws me up to his eyes. They're dark and twinkling and I see that want-need in them too.

"I'm..." I try to find some words, but they're stuffed away in a deep corner with my brain. "Not sorry. What was that about?"

"You know Gram," he says instead, pulling at a strand of hair that's caught in what's left of my lip gloss.

I nod and pull back a little, resting against the steering wheel. I hope to god no one drives by right now because this would be very hard to explain. "She's quite the bingo hustler. I didn't know she was your grandma, though. She mentioned her grandson a few times, but I didn't put it together. Your last names are different..." I trail off, asking but at the same time trying not to pry.

His eyes flicker over my face and then down before looking out the window. "She's my mom's mom."

"You have her smile," I say, pressing a finger at each corner of his mouth and then into where his dimples are when he turns and flashes me that smile.

"My mom had hers, too." I don't miss the past tense, but he forges on, throwing me a grin that's more like the Emmett I see at school - easy and sure. "I saw you there once, you know. At the DAR."

"You did?"

"Yeah, usually I just drop Gram off and pick her up. She's stubborn as hell, so she doesn't like me walking her in. But I did one time and saw you in the bingo room."

I flush. "I call out the numbers sometimes."

"Handle the balls?" He laughs at his dumb joke and I smack his chest, right over his heart. He catches my fingers, presses his palm against the back of my hand so that it's trapped between him and his chest. I can feel his heart racing.

"Why didn't you say hi when you saw me?" I ask accusingly.

He shrugs. "Because we didn't really say hi back then. We just smiled at each other every once in a while." He pauses. "Well, _I _smiled. You blushed."

"I didn't blush." That's a blatant lie and we both know it.

He puts his hands at the dip in my waist, pulling me closer. "You did. I know you did."

"How do you know?" I challenge.

"Because I did it on purpose." My face goes hot and his smile widens and softens simultaneously. "There it is."

His hands drag slowly up my back, brushing my shoulders before landing on my face. They trace the apples of my cheeks where the blush is most prominent, before weaving back through my hair, pulling me closer to kiss me again. It's shorter this time, though no less wanting. "I should get you back," he says, his lips still against mine.

"I guess," I sigh, reluctantly pulling back. I unwind myself from my place on his lap and flop back over into my own seat but leave my legs draped across console, my calves lingering on his leg. I don't want to lose contact completely just yet.

He laughs as he looks over at me. "You might want to..." His hand waves around his face, "do stuff?"

I shrug lazily. "Stuff, huh? That's really all encompassing."

I suppose he's right, although I don't really _want _to. I'd rather not brush away what just happened here but I know that it's really just the appearance; I won't be losing what we just gained from this, whatever it is.

While he drives, I transform back into the Rosalie that's expected at school. The one with the perfect hair and the glossed lips. I'm still wearing his hoodie and that's the last thing I want to let go. It's his equivalent of a Letterman jacket (he has one of those, too, but it's not what I associate with him) and it makes me feel like I'm his, surrounded by him when I can't be near him.

When we get to the school parking lot, he slows considerably, looking around to see if there's anyone that might see us. There's not. "How do I look?" I purse my lips in a mock kiss, and there are the dark eyes once again.

"Beautiful." There's no teasing now. I feel it. Inside, outside, and all around. It's everywhere.

We make our way back into the school, pausing in the vestibule so I can return his hoodie. I'm reluctant giving it and I can tell that's he's reluctant taking it back. It's so much more than a hoodie; it's him taking care of me.

He taps his fingers against my lips quickly and then nods, looking down at his shoes. "Go on. You're going to be late."

I already am.

"Aren't you coming to English?" I ask, wondering if we can prolong this just a little bit longer.

"Nah, I'm going to go hang at Mr. B's for a bit. I've got a note I can give Berty later."

I pick up what he's not saying. It would look weird if he and I walked into the classroom together or even one right after the other. I know that I'll catch a ration of crap from Berty for being a couple of minutes late. I've seen how he acts when other students are, but I also know that being the NHS president carries more weight than it should. Other than hearing about it for a couple of minutes, that will be it.

I step away from him and turn, changing my expression from his to theirs.

And wish I could just be his all the time.

**xoxo**

"Homecoming court, Rosalie." Jess draws out the words, over-enunciating each one like I'm deaf. "You're on the court! I can't believe you missed the announcement."

Jess and Lauren are by my side immediately after class. Of course, I got notes tossed in my direction telling me as much, but rehashing things discussed in notes is what we do.

"Of course she's on the court," Lauren chimes in. "The teachers in this school love her. Did you see how Berty just raised an eyebrow and told her the page number we were on when she walked in like, fifteen minutes late? If anyone else tried that, they would have had automatic detention."

It's true. When I walked into the classroom, I got a sarcastic "How nice of you to join us, Ms. Hale. Glad you could fit us into your schedule," from Mr. Berty... and that was it. Honestly, I was a little disappointed it wasn't anything more. Even when I was _bad, _I was still golden.

I _did _get looks though, and not just from Jess and Lauren, who stared at me like I'd grown another head when I rushed in. Edward and Bella had given me surreptitious looks, too, Edward flicking his eyes toward Emmett's empty desk before bouncing back to me. I hadn't responded, mainly because I couldn't_, _but also because I didn't need to. To the people who knew, it was obvious why I was late and Emmett was missing. Of course, they probably only assumed we were together. I doubt they knew what we had been up to.

"So, where the hell did you run off to, Posie?" Jess asks, elbowing me in the side.

"Uh..." My brain is still sluggish from lunch, so it takes me a few seconds to figure out an alibi. Lauren notices and her eyes narrow slightly, but then a freshman accidentally bumps into her and she busies herself throwing him a withering look. "I was in the library. I'm kind of slammed with homework, so I wanted to get ahead."

"Yeah, I'm sure it had nothing to do with that sophomore slut sitting at our table."

"Jesus, Jess," I mutter, frowning at her. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

Jess snorts. "Uh, no. Mike walked in on them hooking up in his parents' bedroom on Fri-"

"_Jessica_!" Lauren interrupts, reaching across me to shove her. "You have the biggest mouth on the planet. No wonder Newt loves you."

Jess flushes scarlet and looks straight ahead, chewing on her bottom lip. They must have discussed this and decided not to say anything to me.

Obviously I haven't made it clear enough that I don't give a shit.

I stop, right in the middle of the hallway, and they do, too. People are streaming around us, a river of students, but I root myself to the ground and yank them in close so I don't have to speak up. "You guys, I don't care. It doesn't matter, okay? _I _broke up with _him_. He's free to date whomever he wants, hook up with whomever he wants, whatever. I just didn't want to deal with the awkwardness today, so I bailed. My feelings aren't hurt, trust me."

Lauren and Jess exchange a look, like they aren't quite sure what to make of me. But then Jess puts her hand on my back and rubs it soothingly. "Okay, Posie. We just want to make sure you're _really _okay with this, you know? You guys were together for three years and it seems like you... I don't know, moved on really fast."

_Oh, if you only knew. _

"Like I said when we talked on Saturday, it was over for me a long time before I actually broke it off. Roy's the one taking it hard, not me."

"Actually, I think _Vera's _the one taking it ha-"

"Shut _up_, Stan," Lauren bellows. "Christ!"

We all go quiet as a few people around us whip their heads around to stare at us. Jess claps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Lauren is rolling her eyes and shaking her head and I feel something bubbling up in my lungs. It escapes me as a snort and then I'm laughing, leaning against Lauren as she starts to crack up, too. Jess is last to join, still looking embarrassed. It's been so long since I've laughed with them like this, and it actually feels _good_. Maybe I'm still delirious from lunch and Emmett and his lips, but I'll take it.

"Will you guys drop it now? Please?" I ask when I've gotten a grip on myself. "I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

Lauren shrugs. "Okay. If you're cool, I'm cool. I'm not going to go out of my way to be nice to her, though. Or him, for that matter. It's not like _you're _flaunting some new relationship in his face."

Jess taps her nose and then mine. "Exactly. Just goes to show that you're the bigger person, Miss Homecoming Queen."

And just like that, they switch gears and move on to another subject. They don't even notice my silence. I'm sure they don't notice how hot my cheeks get, but I guess someone would really have to be paying attention to see the blush that I'm sure is spreading over my face.

I could tell them about Emmett right now, just blurt it out. But it's not the right time, not after what they just said. I think about how, two weeks ago, I was still with Roy, if only in the technical sense. I think about Jess and Lauren's hostility toward Vera. I know they don't hate her as a person. How can they? They barely know her. No, it's that he's moved on in what they think is too short a time, considering how serious we were. Or at least how serious we _seemed_. There are rules associated with this kind of thing, and Roy isn't the only one breaking them. It makes me want to stay quiet, at least for a little longer.

Besides, despite the fact that I feel myself slipping further and further under these heavy emotions, Emmett and I haven't talked about what we're doing, haven't made any spoken declarations.

So I say nothing. I walk with them down the hall, my lips burning from the memory of Emmett's kiss, but also from the things I can't tell my best friends.

Not yet.

**xoxo**

After school, we head to Lauren's house for some much needed Stan, Mallo and Posie time. Well, according to _them _it's much needed. I don't see much of a difference from what we normally do in terms of hanging out, but I suppose my quietness about Emmett does feel like it's driving a wedge between us.

Lauren's mom is there when we arrive, home with Lauren's youngest brother, whom we affectionately call Mini-Mallo (except when Lauren's pissed off about something and then she just calls him "Mistake"). The twins are still at school; the middle school has the latest buses for some reason.

There's always something going on at Lauren's house. My mom refers to it as organized chaos. She's always shaking her head, saying, "I don't know how Patsy does it." But as she says it, I catch that wistful look, the one she doesn't let slip by too often. Then she usually pulls me closer to her and kisses my forehead.

Mallo-Mom keeps us supplied with these amazing nachos she makes every time Jess and I come over. We sit at their kitchen table, talking animatedly about what's going on at school, and her mom just fits into the conversation. Sometimes she's easier to talk to than my own parents. Probably because she _isn't _mine.

After a few hours go by, I know that I need to get home if I have any chance of getting my homework done that night. We make plans for a shopping trip for Homecoming dresses, even though I'm dropping hints left and right that I wish I didn't even have to go to the dance. _Who the hell am I going to go with?_

When I get in the car, I fire off a quick text message to Em, telling him to call me when he gets the chance. I know he had football practice immediately after school, but I figure he's probably wrapping with that now.

On the way home, I find myself driving past Edward's house. My subconscious mind has something to do with this as I slow down, looking for Emmett's Jeep, in vain. Instead I find Edward, leaning into the trunk of his car, pulling out soccer equipment. I tap lightly on my horn, pulling up along the curb. He raises a hand in the air as he continues to pull equipment out and I get out of my car. "Shake ya ass, show me what you're working with."

He shakes his head instead of his ass, giving me a look. "Christ, Hale. Whitest girl version of that I've ever heard."

I point at the houses that surround us, the perfectly manicured everything. "I'm a product of my environment, Cullen."

"Aren't we all?" With that comment, I'm pretty sure we're no longer talking about my rapping skills, or lack thereof.

He lines up the soccer balls, one by one, kicking them to the far corner of his yard before dribbling the last one back and forth with his feet. "Noticed you weren't at lunch today."

_Oh, so this is how we're going to play this. _"Nope."

"You know..." He stops dribbling the ball, placing his foot on top of it. One of his arms slings around my shoulder, and he leans in, mock confidently. "Emmett wasn't at lunch today either."

"You don't say!" My eyes go wide and I feel my mouth pulling upward despite my best attempts to keep a straight face.

"Really." He nods solemnly. "And then? You were late to English and he was mysteriously nowhere to be found."

"Imagine that." I press my lips together while looking out at the street. I'm so failing at nonchalant. I'm bursting to tell _someone _so I blurt out, "He took me to his house, after I found him in the parking lot. I mean, I sort of forced the event into happening but... he took me home."

I know he'll latch on to the "took me home" portion of my statement and he does, but not how I expect him to. His arm drops from my shoulder and he steps back, frowning.

"You went to his house?"

I nod, raising an eyebrow. "I did."

"Emmett took you to his house," he repeats, as if he can't believe it. Okay, is it _that _hard to believe?

"Pretty sure that's what I just said, Cullen."

"Did you see..." He trails off, focusing back on the soccer ball underfoot, like he's trying to pick his words carefully. His expression melts from shock to practiced nonchalance. "Were you alone?"

He's really asking if I met Emmett's grandma, because where else would she be? He won't say it explicitly and the protective tone in his voice reminds me of how close-mouthed he was when Emmett went away in eighth grade. There's obviously a story here, so many things I still don't know about Emmett and his situation, but just like before, it's not Edward's story to tell. And really, I don't want to hear it from anyone other than Emmett. I want him to let me in, to trust me enough to tell me what's going on in his life. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm the only girl he's let in this far, and that makes _me _protective too. Of him and us and this thing that we're doing.

"No," I reply. "I knew her before, though, from the DAR."

"Still." There's so much he isn't saying in that one word - _it's a big deal _and _this isn't the norm _and probably other things I can't figure out because I don't know what he knows.

His "still" lingers there. I have no idea what to say in response, not without revealing things Emmett told me in confidence. We're basically at a standstill, neither one of us giving up any more information for the sake of our loyalty to Emmett. I don't want to share what I know and I don't want Edward to share his knowledge either. I want to hear it from Em.

Thankfully neither of us have to say anything because at that moment, the garage door behind the free space in the driveway automatically starts to open and we look up to see Dr. Cullen's Mercedes turning into the driveway. Once the car is nestled safely in the garage, he comes over to where Edward and I are standing, calling hello.

"Rosalie, it's good to see you! I've heard you've been hanging around here more lately. I'd hug you but I smell of hospital." He grins ruefully with a shrug. "How's it been going? School?" His voice lowers as he tilts his head toward me. "Got a boyfriend?"

It's obvious that he's heard _something._ I don't know if it's about Roy and I breaking up or Emmett and I being... whatever we are, but I choose to skirt that question altogether. Instead I put on my _serious question _face. "School's school, Doc. You're a professional. Tell me, is it possible to have senioritis within the first few weeks of my senior year?"

He taps his head, mock thoughtfully. "I suppose it is possible. I prescribe plenty of rest, football games, and starting a countdown to winter break."

"98... including weekends," Edward and I answer, simultaneously.

"I don't know whether to be impressed or worried that you already knew that information." Dr. Cullen shakes his head, trying to suppress a smile, then squeezes my arm. "Take care, kiddo. Tell your parents Es and I are looking forward to Thursday."

"What's Thursday?"

"We're going to do dinner, maybe a movie."

"Man, you guys know how to party," Edward says with mock-incredulity.

Dr. Cullen smacks Edward on the back, probably a little harder than necessary, then ruffles his hair. "You didn't get that mouth from me. I'll see you inside, okay? Mom's at a meeting so we're on our own for dinner tonight."

"Pizza?" Edward answers, expectantly.

"Dinner of champions, my son."

"I'll call from my cell while you de-hospitalize." Edward calls over his shoulder before turning back to me. "So hey, congratulations about the Homecoming court."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but just barely. My voice conveys what my eyes can't, though. "Yeah, thanks."

Edward's eyebrows go up, along with one side of his mouth. "Jeez, Hale, I don't think you could sound less enthused if you tried."

"Oh, I bet I could," I snark back.

He shrugs in agreement and crosses his arms, rocking back and forth on his heels. "So why aren't you excited? I would have thought Homecoming court would be right up your alley."

It's a valid statement. Last year, I probably would have been into it. But Last Year Rosalie is a very different girl than Right Now Rosalie. Last Year Rosalie pushed down those feelings of restlessness, of knowing that Roy and I weren't right for each other. That Rosalie forced the pieces to fit and hid the ones that didn't, because it was easier. Because that was who I was supposed to be. And I didn't question it, not until the nagging feeling of _you're more than this _and_ there's more to_ _this _became too big to ignore. There's been a ripple effect since that night I broke up with Roy, a feeling of freedom that washed over me when I told him it was over. It's only gotten more potent with my involvement in the paper, however small, and Alice wanting me to take pictures for her Etsy site. But it's the most powerful when I'm with Emmett, like I could be anything and anyone, and he'd take it all without question.

It's just that being on Homecoming court reminds me of the things I _am _supposed to be, and I'm having a hard time mustering up the excitement. Plus, now that I'm thinking about it, trying to figure out what the hell to do about the dance and whom I'm supposed to go with is not something I'm looking forward to.

Edward doesn't need to hear all of that, though, and probably doesn't want to on top of it. So, I just shrug and pick at a tiny chip in the polish on my pinky nail. I keep it simple by saying, "I guess it's not the court so much as the dance."

He nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. "Not looking forward to cutting a rug with Stan and Mallo?"

"Who says cutting a rug anymore?" He opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt him. "Besides my grandparents."

"How about you stop deflecting and tell me why you're so opposed to the Homecoming dance?"

"I can think of a million reasons, but top of mind is the fact that I don't have a date."

"You don't?" Edward asks, but there's no surprise in his tone, only curiosity.

I give him a look. "I haven't been asked. And anyway, you know that group. I just broke up with Roy a couple weeks ago. There's a mourning period I'm supposed to be going through, apparently."

A smirk breaks out on his face. "I _knew _you broke up with him."

"What, Emmett didn't tell you?"

"Nah. I guessed and he didn't say no, but he didn't tell me anything," he replies. My heart swells so much that I think it might break out of my chest. I remember asking Emmett not to tell, making it the first secret between us, but it still surprises me that he didn't let it slip, not even to his closest friends. And at the same time, it doesn't surprise me at all. I know I can trust his word. I think I always knew; which is why it slipped out of me so easily. "It was pretty obvious to anyone with half a brain. The guy took every opportunity to tell people _he_ ditched _you_, which pretty much reeked of wounded ego."

"He's moved on," I say with a shrug.

Edward laughs and reaches out to grab me by the shoulder. "Ro, c'mon. He hasn't moved on. Roy knows you're the best he'll ever get. But you_ have _moved on, which brings us back to Homecoming."

His eyes are piercing and I swallow, looking out toward my car, cherry red and spotless. "I don't want to go with just anyone and I…I don't know," I trail off lamely with a shrug.

"What about Em?" he presses.

I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, thinking of my conversation with Jess and Lauren earlier. "I don't even know if we're at that point, Cullen. He hasn't mentioned it. And even if we _are_, you know better than almost anyone how my crew rolls. They didn't exactly welcome Bella with open arms, did they?"

"I'm not even going to start about why your logic is flawed, because you are really talking to the wrong person about this." He's staring me down now, his eyebrows raised meaningfully. It's not like he shunned his friends to pursue Bella, but he definitely didn't let them stand in his way, either. He must see something in my expression, though, how much I don't want to get into this right now, because one side of his mouth pulls up into a crooked half-grin. "Well hey, anyway, I understand not being pumped to go. Bella's going to visit her mom in Phoenix that weekend. Belated birthday trip or whatever, so she gets out of going. I was thinking about skipping, but since I'm on the court..."

"Oh!" Guess I missed more than just my own announcement at lunch. "Uh, congrats?"

He shrugs, his indifference showing.

"I guess skipping isn't an option for either of us, then." Because I'm nothing if not dramatic, I throw my head back and wail, "Why is life so _hard_?"

"I'm crying on the inside," Edward says dryly. "You wanna stay and have pizza with me and my dad? I should call soon."

"Nah, I better get home and have some face time with my parents." I turn toward my car. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep," he says, scrolling through his list of contacts. As I'm walking away, he calls after me, "And hey, Rosalie? I'm going to sound like my dad here because he always says this but… these things have a way of working themselves out." Then he pauses and I think he's done, but just as I turn to speak, he throws in something that's more Edward and less Carlisle. "But don't fuck this up."

"Thanks." I open the door to my car and pull the sunglasses that are perched on my head down over my eyes. "Oh, and for the record, your dad isn't a bad guy to sound like."

**xoxo**

When I get home, I'm surprised to find my mom already there. I help with dinner prep, washing the lettuce and cutting the vegetables for the salad. We talk about our day with Eric underfoot, waiting for any scraps that might fall his way.

My cell phone is in my pocket and I keep checking to see if there are any missed calls or texts.

"Waiting to hear from the girls?" she asks. I just nod, even though I've told her that I spent the majority of the afternoon with them.

I can tell that somehow she's already heard through the rumor mill about the Homecoming court, by her exaggerated, "So, did anything special happen at school today?" and the way she feigns surprise when I tell her. I don't know why she bothers to hide that she knows. I make a promise to myself that I'll never do that when I have kids. I'll just tell it like it is.

While she's heard about the court, I know she hasn't heard about my pictures being published in the paper, the thing that's actually important to me. I bound over to my bag, excited to show her, and rifle through it until I find a copy of the paper. Maybe showing her the pictures will make her understand how much it means to me, how much I want to do this. Maybe she'll even think I'm good at it. She's seen pictures here and there, but never like this.

"Hey Mom, I wanted to show you the -"

I'm cut off by the phone ringing. Her finger goes in the air as she rushes toward it. "Hold on a sec, sweetie."

I watch as she wipes her hands on a dishtowel and grabs the phone, balancing it between her cheek and shoulder. I can tell from her side of the conversation (mostly _mmhmm_s and other short answers) that Dad's stuck at the office, that we'll have to eat without him. After she hangs up, she looks disappointed for a brief moment. But then her expression smooths out and she drifts back to set the table. I notice she pours herself extra wine when she's done placing two settings.

The newspaper falls back into my bag, soundlessly.

Instead of retreating to my room after dinner like I normally do, I hang out at the table and do my homework there. Not surprisingly, it goes a lot quicker without the distractions of my room, my music and phone calls and texts. As I'm finishing my Calc homework, Mom comes behind me, looking over my shoulder. She plays with my hair with one hand, holding Eric with the other. "I don't even remember that stuff. I'm not even sure I l_earned _that stuff. You're so much smarter than me, Rosalie."

I don't miss the note of pride in her voice and it irritates me for reasons I can't quite place. I think again of the paper and my pictures, now hidden in my bag, and wonder if she'd be just as proud looking at my photos as she is seeing that I've mastered the art of solving derivatives and integrals.

"Well hey, it's good to know that I'll not need this in my life after high school and college," I grumble, hunching over my book, and then add to myself, "why bother?"

She hears it, of course, having super-sonic mom hearing, and leans over to kiss the top of my head. "Because it's expected that you have these foundations _now_."She straightens at the sound of the garage door opening. "Oh! Your father's home. Let's go say hi to Daddy, Eric." I swear that dog sticks his tongue out at me as my mom carries him away. She turns back to me before she reaches the doorway. "Thanks for hanging out with me, sweetheart."

I nod just as my phone lights up, _Em _flashing on the screen. _Finally. _My irritation fades away just seeing his name.

"Well, well, look who it is," I drawl, quickly standing and gathering my school stuff with one hand. I've got one eye on the hallway leading to the garage, where my parents will be coming in any moment. "I was wondering if you were ever going to call me."

Emmett laughs low in his throat and I shiver. Somehow his voice is even sexier over the phone. "I would've called earlier, but I was sidelined by the bitch-out I got from Gram."

"Bitch-out? What do you mean?" I repeat, freezing. For a second, I worry that it's because of me. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be at their house. Maybe I did something at the DAR once that pissed her off, like called out a number that gave someone else a bingo. God, what if she hates me?

"I got the crackdown from Berty."

I'm so caught up in my mental turmoil - _shit, we're like Romeo and Juliet, what am I going to _do?- that his statement doesn't sink in right away. My parents walk in, hand in hand, looking perfect, pristine and happy. I suppose my mom is over the lateness. My heart and voice both stutter. "Berty?"

My dad's eyes light up in recognition. Good, they think I'm talking about school, probably with Jess or Lauren. I keep my face completely neutral and hope I'm not flushed. _Nothing to see here, folks. _

I must sound like a complete idiot to Emmett. Or a parrot. Or an idiotic parrot. All I can do is repeat back what he's said to me, but my parents are right there watching me and this Calc book is really goddamn slippery right now. I can't get a grip on it. I just want to get out of here and be alone with my phone and Emmett.

"_Yes_, Berty," Emmett replies, sounding amused. "He gave me detention for skipping and the school called Gram to let her know. You don't want to see my gram when she's pissed. Shit, _I _don't want to see her when she's pissed."

I finally get my book and pen and notepad cradled safely in my arm and wiggle my fingers at my parents before dashing out of the kitchen to the stairs. "How the hell did that happen? I thought you had a note," I ask when I'm far enough that I know they won't hear.

"Uh, well, I was a little distracted and forgot to grab one at home."

A smile spreads across my face at the thought of being the one who drove him to distraction. I can almost see the sweet blush on his cheeks.

"I can't believe he gave you detention. Doesn't he know who you are?" I walk into my room, dropping my things onto my desk. I cross my room and collapse on my bed, gazing up at the ceiling. I imagine Emmett doing the same thing.

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly why I got detention," he laughs. "Anyway, he said he was going easy on me by giving me Saturday detention instead of after-school. That way I don't have to miss practice, you know."

"How benevolent," I say dryly.

"Ooh, nice SAT word, Hale."

"I try." An idea blooms in my mind and I roll onto my side, hugging a pillow to my stomach. "Hey, listen, if you need help catching up on what you missed today, my tutoring services are still on the table."

"Are they now?" I love the sound of his voice right now, like he's promising me something.

"They are. Interested?"

"You have no idea." I'm pretty sure I do. "So, when do you want to, uh, tutor me?" His tone is heavy with insinuation and I snort softly.

"My parents are going out with Edward's parents on Thursday." I pause. He stays quiet, an anticipating silence. "Um, so if you want to come over while they're doing that...?"

"Sure," he replies, voice low, and that one word makes my heart beat hard. I press my knees together tightly.

We're quiet for a minute. I can hear him breathing and I close my eyes, pretending like I'm in his room with him, or he's here with me. The silence stretches between us, but it's not weird. It's the type of silence I didn't even know existed, full and comfortable.

"What are you doing right now?" I ask finally, because I want to hear his voice again.

"Thinking about you."

There's a slow-spread of warmth through my body at his words, making me sigh. "What about me?"

"Not telling."

"Why not?"

He inhales, this long, slow breath and I can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks. "I want to show you instead."

_Is it Thursday yet?_

* * *

><p>Why yes... yes it is Thursday. See, if we were slick, we would have posted this on Monday so that Thursday posted on Thursday.<p>

We're clearly not so slick.

What we are is thankful! Thanks to our darling Jan for always being so helpful, both with this story and just in general. Val and JD are generally ridiculous with us and we're all going to meet in the middle of a country for a Starbucks Butterbeer or something.

And of course, if you're reading this, we are SO grateful. The reviews we've been getting really do mean the world to us and we're so appreciative of the support.

We'll give you a teaser from THURSDAY if you're interested! xoxoxo


	9. Chapter 9 Love Song

Chapter 9 - Love Song

I pass by the window for what's got to be the twenty-third time, peeking out of the curtains. My eyes are scanning for Emmett, either him or his Jeep, when I hear the retching noise.

"You've _got _to be kidding me."

In all the scenarios I've dreamed up over the past three days about what would happen when Emmett gets to my house, me on my knees, scrubbing dog vomit out of the carpet ranks pretty damn low. But that's exactly what I'm doing. At least Eric has the decency to look _somewhat _sorry as I pull the carpet cleaner and towels from the hall closet.

So that's where I am when the doorbell rings, on the floor, spraying cleaner and letting it soak in. Eric is giving the towels a look like he wants to show them who's boss and I know I can't leave him alone with them, otherwise I might come back to an even bigger mess. He often gets in fights with inanimate objects (or my foot), so I scoop him up. He tries to lick my face; I can't tell if it's in gratitude or just to mess with me.

"Um, no, vomit mouth. You can keep that."

Rushing into the foyer, I don't even chance a look at the mirror. I just fling open the door. Emmett's got his finger on the bell, like he's about to press it again, but stops and pulls it away. He takes his baseball hat off his head, shoving it quickly into his back pocket. _God, he's gorgeous. _The plaid shirt he's wearing looks worn, and not in the hipster, I-bought-this-new-but-it-already-looks-worn look. The dark wash of his jeans are slightly faded, and also authentic. The real deal; just like him.

His frame fills the doorway and he looks down shyly, running a hand against the back of his neck. "Hi. I'm not early, right?"

"Hi," I say, breathlessly. "Um, no, you're not early. I was just..." _Oh great, Rosalie. What are you going to say? I was just cleaning up dog vomit? _"I just have to clean something real quick. Oh! Come in." I usher him into the foyer and he looks around, his eyes taking in the foyer, moving up to the cathedral ceiling and the chandelier hanging from it. "Do you like dogs?"

He raises a dubious eyebrow as his eyes land on Eric. "Is that even considered a dog?"

Eric growls at his comment and I laugh. "Careful, he speaks English."

I thrust Eric toward him and he takes him into his hands. They look funny together, this tall, broad guy holding my tiny pipsqueak of a dog. "Emmett, meet Eric. Can you hold him while I finish up? It will only take a sec."

"Sure," Emmett says as Eric sniffs his little nose at him, deeming him acceptable to chauffeur him around. "Hey buddy. Paw bump."

"Oh and not that I think you'll have to worry about this because he doesn't give his love freely but... don't let him lick you."

Now he's looking at Eric with concern. "Uh, okay. Why?"

"Just trust me on this."

The speed with which I rush back into the living room and scrub at the floor astonishes even me. I throw the towels into the laundry room, put away the cleaner and wash my hands before making my way back to Emmett and Eric. I can't believe I've left him standing in the foyer with the monster. I mean, he's a _little_ monster, but really? Clearly the fumes of the cleaner have gone to my head.

I expect to find him still there, standing where I left them. Instead, he's sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Eric is running around manically, grabbing all of his favorite toys and dropping them into Emmett's lap.

Emmett looks down at the collection of toys and then back up at me with a bemused grin. "He wanted to show me something."

"Whoa. I'm surprised he warmed up to you so quickly. Or well, really at all. Usually he barely tolerates people."

"This guy?" Emmett picks him up with one hand, squinting at Eric's face. "Maybe he's just shy until he really knows someone." He gives me a pointed look.

I snort at his assessment and his attempt at paralleling me with Eric. "No, he's just sort of an asshole sometimes. He used to try and bite Roy for no reason."

"Smartest dog ever."

I roll my eyes. The damn thing just puked on the carpet. The smartest dog ever would have realized that I was waiting for the cutest boy ever to come over and headed outside. Or at least aimed for the tile.

_Change the subject._

"So, where's your car? I didn't hear you pull up."

Emmett watches Eric traipse away, his dog tags jingling softly. "Bella needed a ride to E's house because her hoopty was acting up, so I just left it there." One corner of his mouth pulls up. "They kicked me out pretty quick."

"Oh yeah?"

He stands, eyebrows raised, and then he's looking down at me with those blue eyes that are the color of the sky drifting into twilight. "The house to themselves without any parents around? I'd kick me out, too."

It takes a second for his statement to really sink in. In all of my mania over Eric's puke, I forgot for a moment what we're doing and that this house is empty except for us. Beyond our stolen moments, this is the first time we've been really _alone_.

But his words remind me. When our eyes lock, everything goes very quiet. I feel the blush I see in his cheeks spread across my own and I swallow heavily. I'm pretty sure it echoes off the walls and the floor; I know he hears it, because his gaze goes to my throat. He can just look at me a certain way and I have goose bumps all over my skin.

"I'm not going to kick you out, don't worry," I say.

He smiles and when his mouth stretches up, his teeth catch his bottom lip almost bashfully. I try to maintain some semblance of calm, even when he reaches out for me. His hand goes around my hip and he reels me in until I'm against his chest with my eyes fixed on the whisper of stubble across his jaw. Whatever awkwardness or nervousness there was between us disappears as soon as he touches me. Even though my heart is hammering and I'm a little shaky, I feel _right _here, against him.

"I hope not. I just got here."

Oh god, I think that little grin is going to kill me one day. It'll take out my knees first and then maybe my heart. I close my eyes when his lips brush against my cheek.

"A little to the left." He laughs and moves back toward my ear. "_Other _left. Am I going to have to tutor you on that, too?" His lips drift over mine, settling on my other cheek. "Em..." I whisper, frustrated, and he laughs again, but it's husky and low.

His arms wrap around me for real and he pulls me even closer, resting his forehead against mine. Our mouths are so close. "It sucks seeing you at school, but not talking, you know?"

"I know. God, I know."

I feel the same pang I've been feeling for the past three days. School has been torturous; Jess and Lauren have been creating some kind of fortress of solidarity around me because Roy is parading around with Vera. Even though I told them I don't care, they've gone into mother-hen mode, which means they won't leave me alone at school. _Ever_.

Because of that, the extent of my and Emmett's interactions have been few and far between. We've snuck in texts; on Tuesday, I got one that just read _you_ _look beautiful_, but when I looked around, he was already turning the corner. And for the past three days in English, I've angled myself just the right way in my desk so that Emmett can see me tapping my bottom lip. It's become our unspoken sign, and I felt the weight of him watching me every time I did it in class or at my locker.

When he finally stops teasing me and moves his lips from my cheek to my mouth, it's fast but at the same time slow, like we're getting to know each other in that way again.

"I guess we should make up for lost time," I say when we pull away, turning so that my back is to his chest, his body pressed to mine. We start walking, which is really more like shuffling because neither of us wants to give up the physical contact. His short facial hair tickles my neck and I giggle, trying to pull away, but not really. "Do you want a tour? Anything to eat or drink?"

"No." He draws out the word.

Leaning my head back onto his shoulder, I stop our forward motion so that I can look at his face. My eyes fall to his back, where I notice his backpack is not. "Oh, did you forget your books? How am I supposed to tutor you if you don't have those?" I say, teasingly.

"I thought that you'd share with me," he murmurs. His eyes are shining and it's that whole want-need thing again. I wonder what I look like to him, knowing that I constantly feel different when we're together; I feel alive, my nerve-endings on overdrive.

"I'm an only child. I don't do well with sharing. But I think I can make an exception for you."

He raises a brow and leans further into me. "I'm an only child, too, so I think it's best that we stick together."

"Kindred spirits," I say, nodding while navigating us to the stairs. "Come on, my books are upstairs in my room. I'll share with you there."

The double meaning of my words isn't lost on him; his smile tells me as much.

We disengage so we can walk up the stairs without breaking our necks, but our hands stay linked. Once we get to the landing, he's right there again, his body spooning mine as we walk to my room.

"Gram says hi, by the way. And she wanted to know if you want to come to dinner some time next week. Maybe Tuesday? Or sooner even. Monday?"

I smile as he rambles on. Once again, I'm reminded that we're the same, that he feels _this _as much as I do. "Are those her suggestions or yours?"

"Mine." He shrugs, though not apologetic. "I like seeing you."

I'm pretty sure my smile is ridiculous. I don't care.

"Um, so this is my room," I say, suddenly shy again. This isn't a big deal, right? But it is. It's sort of surreal to have him here, in my space. Just a few weeks ago, I sat on the floor, trying to research and remember the few things I already knew about him. From then to now, I've learned so much about him; about myself, even. And now Emmett's walking into the place that holds basically all my worldly possessions - at least the ones that matter most to me.

"Whoa. I thought you and Edward had the same model," he breathes under his breath and releases me so he can take it all in, I guess.

"Um, yeah. It actually used to be two rooms. But... well, when my parents found out they weren't able to have any more kids, they decided to take part of the wall out and add the French doors. It's crazy, I know."

"There's a fireplace. You have a fireplace in your room," he mumbles. I don't say anything. He wanders around the room, past my desk with my laptop and a stack of college brochures, the chair that his hoodie is draped over, and to the lines of photographs I have resting on shelves. There's a picture of my parents that he picks up to study. "Did you take this?"

I nod, walking over to stand next to him. "That was at a DAR event last spring that my mom organized."

"It's a good picture, Ro. Alice was smart to ask you to help her out."

I flush at his compliment. Alice must have already told him about the plan we made to take pictures at Edward's house on Sunday. She'd caught me in the hallway yesterday, just before lunch. When I suggested that the boys be there to model her stuff in addition to Bella, she'd just smiled knowingly, because by "boys" I'd obviously meant Emmett.

Emmett's still looking at the picture of my parents with an odd expression. "You look like her."

"When I was little, I really resembled my dad more." Reaching past him, I run my fingers along the shelves until I find the picture I'm looking for, the one of my dad and me on the boat. I was about five or six and sitting on my dad's lap, wearing his captain's hat. "See? I guess things change."

"They do," he says quietly. There's a hint of sadness there and I have to work hard not to make him elaborate. I don't want to push, because he seems so hesitant.

Instead, I grab the books from my desk and motion for him to follow me. I'm trying to give him space, let him talk about things on his own time, if he even wants to. At the same time, I'm hoping that I don't look like a slut by dragging him to my bed. _I wish you'd open up to me, but hey, since I'm going to give you the chance to do that on your own, come to my den of sin._

You know, if a den of sin was decorated in hues of turquoise and pink.

"Well, I guess we should..." I smile shyly, flipping through the pages of the textbook. Finding the page with the comprehensive questions, I settle myself on the bed and then awkwardly pat the space next to me.

He sits at the edge and wrestles off his shoes, dropping them with a thud onto the white carpet. I watch him, kind of breathless. He's on my bed. I've thought of him while I lay in this bed, have thought of him _being _in my bed, and now he's here and I don't even know what to do or say.

"All right, Miss Hale, let's do this," he says, scooting backwards until he's in front of me. His knee brushes against mine, like that first night at Edward's, and his grin mirrors mine. We both know what this means, or what it could, but neither of us are saying it. Maybe we don't even have to; it's in the air between us.

I shift so that both of our knees are pressed together and turn the book to give him access. Despite the fact that I'm distracted by his closeness and the way he smells, how he looks at me and smiles whenever I glance up from the questions or my notebook, we get through the bulk of the comprehensive questions pretty quickly. He stays with me the whole time, sometimes answering ahead of me, but just blinks innocently whenever I raise a suspicious eyebrow.

He doesn't speak up much in English, except when Berty calls on him (which is hardly ever), and we don't have any other classes together, so I'm not very familiar with how he does, school-wise. I'm a little surprised at how quickly the answers come to him, how easily we spar back and forth. It's another little piece of the Emmett puzzle I'm putting together, all of these pieces that make a beautiful picture.

But there's still so much I don't know. So much I want to figure out.

"I don't think you needed me at all," I say accusingly, when all of the questions are done.

He looks up from the notebook I loaned him, pulling his pen cap out from between his teeth, and grins. "I did, too. I never would've gotten through these questions without you."

"Wow, I never took you for a liar, McCarty."

He laughs, drops the pen and closes his notebook, and then lies down, propping his head up. "Okay, maybe I would've been able to get through them, but I like doing it with you more."

I don't miss the innuendo or the way he's smirking, all laid out in front of me. My bed is a queen and it's always felt kind of huge to me; sometimes I wake up and I've gone width-wise, like he is now. But Emmett makes it feel so much smaller. He even fills the space he doesn't take up.

I wonder how it will feel to me tonight, remembering how he looked here.

"Why do you like doing it with me?" I ask coyly.

His grin widens - _such a boy_- and he shrugs. "Because you have a really hot..." His eyes sweep over me, slow, and even though he flushes a little while he does it, his confidence makes my stomach quiver a little. "Brain."

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. "I'm sure that's what you meant."

"It is. That doesn't mean there aren't other things about you that are hot, because trust me, there are and I could name them all right now." It's my turn to blush. His smile goes a little serious. I didn't even know that was possible, but Emmett does it with soft eyes and dimples. "But you're not just a pretty face, Rose. You're insanely smart, which is really sexy and intimidating as hell."

"I think you overestimate me," I say with a small smile.

He shakes his head, so sure. "I think you underestimate yourself."

I shrug, smoothing down the pages of my notebook. "I just work hard. My parents have always pushed me to excel in school. It's really important to them."

"Is it important to you?"

"I like doing well. And I..." I trail off, darting a glance at him to see if he's listening. I tried to talk to Roy about this once, about the weight my parents' expectations put on my shoulders, but his eyes glazed over pretty quickly into the conversation. I've never really talked about this with anyone. It's just something I've kept inside, but something about the way Emmett's looking at me, quiet and waiting, makes me think he'll listen. Maybe even understand. "I don't know. I feel like I'm all they have, so I want to be good for them. They wanted more kids but couldn't have any after me, so all of their dreams and hopes for their other kids are on me now. I don't want to disappoint them."

"What do they think of your photography?" he asks, but I think he already knows. He has to.

I shrug. "They don't really. They want me to focus on academics at school, so classes are out of the question. Alice is kind of the first person to make me feel like I could actually do something with it, like it isn't something unworthy of my time."

I stop talking and look down at my hands, almost shy again about what I've just shared with him. I feel the bed dip, feel him moving beside me, settling so that his head is in my lap and he's able to look right up at me.

"It's great that Alice made you feel like that. And it's obvious that everyone liked the pictures you took for the paper, too. I mean, that much is clear after Angela asked you to help out again yesterday. She'd probably like you to be on the staff full-time, or whatever." He pauses and I can tell he wants to say more.

"But?"

"You like photography and you're good at it. And I bet your parents want you to succeed with whatever you're doing. They're pushing you for all these things that they want. But this is something _you_want." His eyes twinkle as he looks up at me. "You should go for what you want. I'm learning that."

I sit up on my knees, letting his head fall to the bed. He lets out a soft _oomph. _I pick the books up and deposit them next to my bed in a pile. "How is it you get me to tell you all my secrets?"

"It must be because of my handsome looks and boyish charm," he says, his smile showing off his dimples. He slides his body so that he's resting his head on my pillow. I'll definitely be cuddling with it later tonight. One hand is under his head and the other is expanded across the bed, like he's waiting for me. He raises a brow and nods his chin at the empty space.

For some reason, I'm slightly freaking at the prospect of being horizontal with him. That's just ridiculous, right? But there he is, lying on my bed with his head on my pillow. It's the stuff that my dreams are made of. Literally.

I shrug, trying to be nonchalant. No big deal that I'm going to be in my bed with Emmett McCarty. Nope. Just another day at the office. Or something.

Lying down, I rest my head on his bicep and look up at him. "They aren't secrets," he explains quietly. He's playing with a few strands of my hair, looking at me with this _look._

"They're not? I don't tell anyone else this stuff. Not Lauren, not Jess, no one. Just you."

"Nah. They're what make up who you are. And it sounds like you're really just figuring it out yourself, so it's okay that not everyone else know yet." He brings his face close to mine and our noses touch. I close my eyes, just feeling him so close. Right there. "I like that you tell me, though."

Our foreheads are touching now, too. I anticipate the feel his lips on mine, so I'm surprised when he pulls away from me a bit. My eyes open slowly, and I find myself looking into his. "My parents aren't really in my life. So yeah, the fact that you have yours and they're so supportive, you know? I..." Emmett trails off thoughtfully.

I venture a guess. "You're figuring out things, too?"

He gives a small shrug. "Eh, I pretty much know where I stand. I think we're at opposite ends of the field, though. Whereas people want to see you succeed and are pushing you in that direction, I think they're just waiting for me to fuck up. Not _everyone, _but the teachers and administrators probably think it's in the cards. The odds aren't good for someone like me."

"Someone like you?" I ask, searching his face.

"I don't have a fireplace in my _house_, let alone my room, Rosalie. My mom died when I was little and my dad didn't know what to do with me. Literally didn't have a clue as to how he'd survive without her."

My heart drops at his admission. He must see the shock on my face, because he stops suddenly. We're quiet for a minute, but I get the feeling he needs to know I'm here, so I scoot closer. "I'm so sorry, Em. What happened?"

"It was a car accident," he says around a deep breath. "He felt responsible that she wasn't alive somehow, so instead of one parent, I lost two. I think I always resented him subconsciously for it, without really knowing the reason _why _when I was little_._"

My mind flashes to the pictures on his Gram's walls. "Gram's your mom's mom, right?"

"Yeah. When this all happened, even though she had lost her daughter, I went to live with her. She's a saint, you know? I mean, I'd always been close with her, had always gone to visit her with my parents but she took on a five-year-old punk when she should have been finally able to relax."

"I bet she doesn't see it that way," I say softly.

"She's never made me feel that way, no. But as I've gotten older, I've thought it. And then when I hit eighth grade, she started getting sick." My hand winds back over my head to find his. We weave our fingers together as he tells me about how it wasn't too bad at first, but he knew that she wasn't feeling well, how little things that seemed so easy before started to wear on her. His father offered to have him come live with him in Port Angeles, to give Gram space now that he had remarried and "had his life together."

"And that's great and all, that he settled and made peace with himself. I guess he finally decided that it was time to know me. But by that point, I was thirteen and pretty pissed off about the whole thing. It was a fucked up time. I wanted to try and get to know my dad, give him a chance or whatever, but I didn't really want to leave Gram."

My mind is racing, trying to process all of the information he's giving me. He keeps talking and I keep listening, take it all in, every word. His fingers move over my knuckles when he tells me how he never felt at home with his dad and his new wife, never really fit in at his new school. He tells me about the trouble he got into there. His eyes cloud with worry when he says it was nothing crazy, just acting out in class and being a smart ass, and maybe a fight or two.

Like that would make me walk away. I don't think anything would.

He stares at the ceiling, this faraway look on his face when he talks about coming back to Forks and Gram. I almost feel his relief talking about it. His body sinks closer to mine and I drift closer to him, too, until my leg is between his and his thigh is heavy over mine.

"I'm glad I came home," he says. Our eyes meet. I've never felt close to someone like this, in every way that counts. "I don't talk about this much, about my mom and my dad and stuff. I mean, E, Swan, Al and Jas know the mechanics of it, but you're the first one to know _all _of it, Ro. Okay?"

He gives me something with that statement and I don't know if it's his trust or another piece of himself, but whatever it is, it's so much that I don't even know what to say. So I don't say anything at all. His eyes are still open with mine when I put my hand on the back of his neck, but we close them at the same time and breathe out together when our lips touch.

I'm okay with how quiet this house is right now because it means we're alone and I can hear every little sound he makes - that little rolling groan when he feels my tongue, the rustle of his jeans when he scoots closer, the gasp we both make when our hips pull together. I feel like I'm on fire on the inside. I push against him and he moans again, whispers my name. He pushes back and it's this give and take of hips and hands and that fire gets white hot where he's touching me, pushing up my shirt so he can feel skin.

I don't know how many different ways it's possible to want and need someone, but however many there are, I want and need Emmett in all of them.

My shirt goes away and his does, too, although we have to wrestle with his a bit. I want to look, but we're too close and his skin feels amazing - hot and soft over hard muscle. I want to climb on top of him. I want to pull him on top of me just to feel his weight. Somehow instead, in all of my pressing and all of his pushing and the kissing and touching, I end up wiggling around, half on my back and half on my other side. The angle is kind of awkward but at the same time amazing because now his free hand, the one I'm not laying on, is wandering.

When his fingers trace the swell of my breast over my lace bra (thank god I wore my nice one) and his palm barely covers it, I think I might explode. And maybe he will, too, because he makes this strangled sound into my mouth and then pulls away. His eyes are dark and kind of glassy and I smile, breathless.

"Rose, I want to touch you more," he murmurs.

"Please." I say it once but I want to say it a million times, so he knows how much I want it. When he does it again, this time with more purpose and pressure, I arch back into him, feel how much he wants this, too.

We kiss, slow and deep and then sometimes faster, sloppy-good. We laugh when our teeth knock together, but there's nothing funny about how he reacts to me. I don't feel like he's racing for the finish line, like he just wants to get off. He's touching me like he's really exploring, taking in every curve and sensitive spot. It's so different from what I'm used to.

His fingers trace the curve of my side until they're at the waistband of my jeans. We both stop, just for a second. I'm already aching. His mouth goes to my ear, his fingers tracing the skin above my jeans, making me shiver.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

I don't think I can form a word, much less a complete sentence. I just take his hand and we unbutton and then unzip my jeans together. His breath gets short. I know he's watching what we're doing just like I am.

"I think you should just take these off," he says, his heart thumping heavily against my back.

I laugh a little, looking over my shoulder. He's right there, smiling, and I take his bottom lip between mine, just to taste, before shimmying out of my jeans. Emmett helps, skimming one broad palm down the side of my thigh, until I can kick them the rest of the way off.

"Fuck..." he trails off, his voice thick. I feel more naked than I am for a second, completely uncovered. Rain starts to fall, hitting my window softly, and I feel the cool breeze roll in from where it's cracked open. "You're so beautiful."

"You make me feel beautiful," I whisper back.

He looks down at me with this intensity, but his smile is playful. "I want to make you feel good."

I don't know what to say, so I kiss him instead. Roy was always so quiet when we hooked up. We never talked like this. He was fast, too. He touched, but he never teased like Emmett's doing now, with his hand moving back up my thigh, fingers circling my hipbone and then moving down to trace the edge of my underwear. I never made the kind of noises with Roy that come out of my mouth when Emmett touches me _right there_.

And I never, ever took Roy's hand and guided it to where I needed it to be, but I'm doing that now with Emmett because I need him to touch me or I'm going to die. We watch together, his palm sliding down my stomach, his fingers disappearing beneath black lace until he finds me, so ready for him. I only see his face for a second before my eyes close, but I'll remember it forever. He's looking at me like he's getting as much pleasure out of this as I am, although I don't know how that's possible. He's looking at me like I'm the most beautiful girl, like I'm something he's never seen before, and I feel drunk from it.

"Oh, my god," he whispers, almost to himself, and his fingers slip further down and inside and my knees open to let him touch me more. He's so good at this. I'm sure he's done this before, because my thighs are shaking, tense with how close I am already. "You feel so fucking amazing, Rosalie."

"Don't stop, don't stop." I don't even recognize my own voice. I open my eyes to see him looking down at me, his lips parted and eyes so dark.

And he doesn't. He keeps talking, murmuring how beautiful I am and how good I feel and do I like this? And all I can do is remember to breathe and say his name and when I'm so, so close, I tell him and his mouth crashes against mine. He's rubbing and stroking with his fingers and then I'm panting and crying out into his mouth. And then, then I'm silent because I'm falling apart and it's too intense. My fingers curl into his hair and his fingers curl into me and he holds me close, slows his pace to ride wave after wave with me until I'm nothing but a shaking, gasping mess in his arms. We stay that way for a few minutes while I wait for my breath to get normal again, for my heart to slow down.

"That was incredible," he says finally, his voice soft. I'm pretty sure that's what I should be saying to him, but I'm still coming down off of my high, and somewhere along the way, I lost my voice. So instead I climb on top of him, straddling his body with my legs, kissing him until it finds its way back.

"Thank you." The words are on my lips, on his lips, as I whisper them between kisses, in the middle of them.

He presses his head back into the pillow, looking at me through half-closed lids. "Anytime," he replies, trying to sound jokingly nonchalant, but his voice is strained. I can tell he'd be okay ending things right here. He doesn't expect more, doesn't push. I'm not used to being with someone who isn't after his own agenda.

This is the first time in a situation like this that I _want _to give more. I want to make him happy, want to make him feel as good as he's made me feel. _This is how it's supposed to be. _And I can feel _his_ want, his need as he's pressed up against me. Every time I move, his hips involuntarily seek to follow that movement.

Scooting backwards, I make my way down his body. The muscles in his abdomen contract as he braces himself on his arms and my hands trace the lines of those muscles. _Dear god. _"Hey, where are you going?" he asks.

I lean back so that my ass rests on his thighs. My fingers move to the waistband of his jeans and my voice doesn't sound like my own when I ask, "Is this okay?" It's deep and husky and... sexy, even.

"That's more than okay." His eyes are dark. I can hear the rain growing more intense as I undo the buttons. He raises his hips off the bed, assisting me as I pull them and his boxers down and off his legs. They fall to the floor at the foot of my bed and all I can hear is the sound of his breath and mine and the thud of my heart that's surely expanded in my chest after he's made me feel so good, made me want him even more than I ever thought possible.

He's watching me, still, his arms propping him up. I glance at him one more time before I lower my lips to kiss his inner thigh. "Wait. Are you-"

I don't wait, because I know he doesn't really mean that. My hand finds him and then my lips do and I hear him utter a string of words that sound like prayers and curses one after the other. The noises he's making mirror the ones that I made not long ago and I know I'm making him happy, I'm making _him _feel good. The corners of my lips pull upward with that knowledge.

If there's anything I've learned from being with Emmett, it's a good give and take. Reciprocity. With him, the giving is just as rewarding as the taking, and every once in a while I look up to find him watching me, his jaw tight and teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. His hands stay gripped on the sheets next to him, but he says my name again and again and it feels like he's touching me all over. I love that I make him feel this way.

Afterward we stay in bed, wrapped up and tangled and mostly quiet, as the room gets darker and darker. It's nice just being with him like this, not feeling like we need to go any further or fill the comfortable silence between us.

By the time my parents get home later that night, Emmett is long gone and I'm sprawled out on the bed in my pajamas. Mom pokes her head in, her face flushed from too much wine and laughter. She and Esme turn into schoolgirls when they get together.

"Hey, honey, how are you doing in here?" She's smiling, leaning up against the doorjamb.

"Fine, just finishing up my homework."

"Quiet afternoon?"

I look down at my notebook, letting a curtain of hair fall over my face so she doesn't see how it blooms with color. Apparently I got that trait from her.

"Yep," I say, as if nothing is different.

I can smell Emmett on the pillow jammed underneath my chest, though. I can still feel his breath on my skin and his touch and what he said to me and I know the truth.

_Everything _is different now.

* * *

><p>Thanks to JD and V for being our cheerleaders every chapter. AccioBourbon patched us up this chapter, as she always does. In addition to being our red pen-er-er and hand-holder, she's also a wonderful writer who's got a killer PeterBella (you read that right) going called First Person, Present. It's nearly complete and wonderful. Coincidentally enough, it's also listed in our favorites. Give it a read!

Another non-canon story to check out is Letting Go of Maybe by Weebble. It's Emmett/Bella. It's great. It's in our favorites!

We're dying to know what you guys thought of this chapter. To be fair, we are every chapter, but particularly this one. Thanks for giving us so much love thus far. You're all so rad and we can't get enough of you. And will stalk you on Twitter given the opportunity.

Same time, same place next chapter. See you then!


	10. Chapter 10 Feelings Show

Chapter 10 - Feelings Show

"Okay, Em," I murmur, playing with the settings on my camera to adjust to the afternoon light filtering through the trees in Edward's backyard. "Why don't you change into the blue shirt and then put on the brown and blue knit hat? Bella, you're good in what you're wearing now."

Bella gives me the thumbs up from her spot a few feet away and then hip-checks Emmett into motion. He winks at me, giving my waist a squeeze as he passes to go to what Alice has dubbed the wardrobe station, also known as one of the chairs next to the fire pit. I have to force myself not to turn around and watch Emmett change, focusing on my camera instead.

It's close to the end of Alice's shoot on Sunday. We've been in Edward's backyard all afternoon, making our way through all of Alice's amazing creations. Emmett and Bella are set to wear one of the last things we have to shoot, knitted "his and hers" beanies.

It feels strange being here with this group, but at the same time not. The past few days have been surreal. I'm still doing the careful balancing act of friends, drifting back from where I want to be to where I've always belonged, but my mind is always on Emmett. Every time I saw him at school on Friday, my entire body tingled, remembering the night before. The closest I got to him that day was in English when we had group work and the backs of our desks touched. My group had to repeat themselves multiple times because I wasn't paying any attention to them, too busy listening to the low murmur of his voice. How could I concentrate when he was so close? I nearly jumped twenty feet in the air when his fingertips snaked behind him and quietly ran along the sliver of skin between my shirt and waistband, just for the briefest moment.

I thought about that touch and all of the others while I was watching him from the stands at the football game later that night. Stan and Mallo were on either side of me, and we (once again) talked about Homecoming and cheered randomly while Stan (once again) gorged herself on nachos.

_Hello, life on repeat._

But after the game, as we were all making our way to our respective cars, I got a text from Emmett asking if I wanted to meet him at his house to watch a movie. I begged off going to the diner with my crew, ignoring their taunts of me being a "lame ass" (_thanks for that, Lauren_), and before long found myself parked in front of Emmett's house.

In my eagerness to be close to him again, I made it there a few minutes before he did. When he got out of his car, he grabbed his pads from the back and I could see that my ribbon was still tied firmly in place. I moved to kiss him and got the _I'm disgusting and sweaty _head shake, but I didn't care. My lips found his and his hands found my hips and we leaned against the far side of the Jeep for a few minutes, until Gram flickered the porch light.

She sat with me while Emmett showered, asking me about the game and if she'd be seeing me at the DAR for bingo the following day. When Emmett came into the room, it was obvious from his grin that he liked finding the two of us sitting together. He made a comment about his "two favorite ladies together_._"

We chatted for a few more minutes before Gram claimed exhaustion, although I'm pretty sure I caught her winking at him. He helped her get settled in her room before joining me for the movie. And we really _just _watched a movie. His arm was draped around me and I was tucked into his side and it felt good and right. Complete.

The balancing act continued yesterday, although it wasn't nearly as pressure-filled as the week had been. At noon I found myself at the DAR, watching the door anxiously for Gram. She made her way in a few minutes before starting time and looked thoroughly peeved when she found someone already sitting in "her" seat. Emmett had escorted her in and made mock scared faces behind her back. I found out later that they were late because of his Saturday morning detention, which Gram was less than thrilled about.

But there's no balancing act right now, no pressure to be anywhere else but here. I haven't heard from Lauren or Jess all day, which means they're probably with Tyler and Mike. And I'm in my element here, with my camera in my hand, directing everyone while I snap off picture after picture. I laugh a _lot_, exchange long looks and touches with Emmett that everyone else catches every time. Not that it matters; we can be exactly what we are here, whatever that is. We haven't talked about it, haven't even come close to labeling it, but it's not questioned in this backyard.

Somewhere along the way, Jasper appointed himself as my assistant. I'm still not entirely sure what this means, other than him being directly behind me and providing a constant running commentary.

"I think Rosalie just wants to see Emmett with his shirt off," Jasper stage-whispers to Edward and Alice, both of whom are standing off to the side. Alice has been trying her best to wrangle Edward and Jasper; she's caught my eye more than once and mouthed, "I'm so sorry_._" I don't know who gave those two Pixie Stix for breakfast but they've been downright punchy the entire time.

"Wouldn't be the first time," I shoot back, not really thinking of the implications. Eyebrows shoot up all around. Emmett smirks. I roll my eyes. "Shut up."

"I didn't even say -"

"But you were going to," I call over my shoulder, giving Jasper a look.

"Oh, I was _so _going to," he says, walking over and slinging an arm around my shoulder. He's got his "Spooning leads to Forking" shirt on again. Alice made him change it earlier for the pictures. I'm not sure if it's a subtle dig at me (and Em) or if he's just being... him. It's always difficult to tell with Jasper.

"Nice shirt," I say, finally commenting on it now. Emmett and I both caught sight of Jasper's shirt at the same time when we walked into the yard hand in hand; he gave mine a little squeeze and grinned.

Jasper does a little "brush his shoulder off" move. "Ali picked it. She says the dark purple makes my eyes pop. What do you think? Are my eyes... popping?"

I pause and look at his eyes, exaggerating a head tilt and squaring my fingers to squint through them. "Oh yes, the popping-est."

Emmett clears his throat and I turn back around, finding him staring at us bemusedly. "We're at your disposal, Hale. This good?" He and Bella start voguing, pouting and making faces.

"I think you could probably smile with your eyes a bit more."

They straighten out, smiling at me, all mouths and eyes. The colors look great against their dark hair and I take shots from a few different angles to show off Alice's handiwork, figuring she can pick the best ones.

Once I've finished, I call Alice over. "I brought my laptop with me so you can look at the pictures and get an idea of whether I got everything you need."

I pull my computer out of my bag and place it on the table, uploading the pictures I've taken throughout the day and then quickly transferring to a slide show.

"How professional," Alice comments, settling into the chair next to mine.

"Hope you have the same opinion once you see the pictures," I mutter under my breath, irrationally nervous. There's always a bit of self-doubt that creeps in when I share my work, even if I know the pictures are good. Not that I really _have _shared my photos before this.

"Oh, don't worry, Alice loves your photog skills, Ro," Edward says from right behind me. I jump a little, looking up at him, and he winks. "She told us at least five hundred damn times."

"Mouth, Cullen," Jasper drawls as Alice jovially flips Edward off before throwing me a wide grin.

"What Edward _meant _to say is that Alice has been very excited about this," Bella says, flopping down into one of the chairs across from the table. Edward moves to her side immediately, perching on the arm. Bella's hand goes to his knee and I watch his fingers slide in between hers. It's a choreographed dance of touch and familiarity. I wish I could capture it, but my camera's hooked up to the MacBook and Alice is tentatively touching the arrow keys, starting to scroll through the pictures.

"I think Rose gets someone else here a little excited, too," Jasper sings out, sidestepping Emmett's arm when he reaches out to shove him. "Dude, come on. You were _twitching _Friday. I've never seen you disappear faster after a game."

Emmett's eyes slide to me and I cradle my chin in my hand, sucking in my bottom lip to stop a smile that will definitely give me away. I can feel Bella's gaze on me, but I keep my focus on Emmett and the way he's not even trying to hide his grin.

"Did you hear that, Whitlock?" Edward calls.

"Why yes, yes I did. I believe it was the distinct sound of a whip." Jasper makes the sound effect for good measure and I roll my eyes.

"Of all people, you two are giving me shit?" Emmett scoffs.

"We're not giving you shit, man." Edward pauses, pressing his lips together as if overcome with emotion. "It's beautiful."

Jasper crosses his arms and covers his mouth with his hand. "Our little boy is growing up."

Bella looks from Edward to Jasper and back again. "Keep it up, you two. Rosalie's never going to hang out with us again."

I know she's teasing, but really, it's moments like this that make me want to spend _more _time with them. It's so easy to see the real friendship between them, to feel it, and I bask in the warmth of it. It feels so different with my crew. There's no posturing here; there's a depth, a trueness to all of them and how they interact with each other that I never knew I always craved.

Alice nudges me with her elbow and I look over at her, returning her soft smile. "You look happy right now," she whispers.

Coming from anyone else, the statement would sound insane or at the very least completely cheeseball. But Alice is so like that, just telling her truth. And I suppose it's my truth, too. "I am happy right now," I whisper back.

She smiles wider and squeezes my arm, then turns back to the computer. "Okay, so these are _amazing_," she says in a louder voice. Jasper and Emmett are rough-housing and shit-talking, but in my periphery I see them pause. Emmett shoves him until they're hovering behind us. Bella and Edward hop up, too, and they all crowd around us and murmur their agreement. Emmett's palm comes to rest at the base of my neck, making me shiver.

"Hey look, you got my good side every time," he says, leaning down so that his forearms are resting on the back of my chair. His cheek brushes mine; I can feel the stubble growing in, can smell the grass and cool air and spice on his skin, and my heart skips a beat.

This moment is perfect. I feel like I'm living inside of a picture, like I've captured something that I want to tuck into a picture frame next to my bed so I can forever remember what this is like.

"That, in and of itself, is a win, Ro," Edward says.

"You're just mad 'cause you're still going through puberty," Emmett says. Bella lets out a noise of indignation and I feel his cheek rise against mine. "Just hold out a little longer, Swan Dive. His balls will drop soon enough."

There's a scuffle and then Emmett's gone. When I turn in my seat, he and Edward are halfway across the yard, wrestling around. Jasper moseys after them, pulling out his wallet (this tattered old Velcro and duct tape thing that looks like it's been through a war) as if he's going to make a wager. I turn to Alice and Bella, who are shaking their heads.

"Ignore them. This is how they show affection toward one another," Alice says, double-clicking on a picture of Bella and Edward. In it, they're standing at the perimeter of Edward's yard, holding hands and looking at each other, he in a knit cap with a pompom on top and she wrapped up in a scarf. The sun is filtering in between them softly. Alice sighs, turning to Bella. "B, look."

Bella looks at it for a long moment and then over at me, her dark eyes wide. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

She points to the screen, careful not to touch it. "_This_. It's like you took a picture of how we feel about one another or something." I stare at her for a second, my mouth opening and closing, and her cheeks go pink. "That sounded dumb, but I just -"

"No, sorry, no." I finally find my voice, clearing my throat. I look at the computer screen, at all of the moments frozen in time there, at these people that I'm starting to realize could be so important to me. "Not dumb. That's, uh...thank you."

_Real eloquent, Rosalie. _

Alice sways, nudging Bella's shoulder first and then mine. "Well, all I can say is I'm glad you work for cheap now, because I'm pretty sure that won't always be the case. Oh, which reminds me!"

She hops up from the table and scoots over to her huge plaid tote bag on the bench. She practically disappears inside of it, rummaging around and muttering to herself. I look over my shoulder, noticing the boys have gone quiet. They're not far away, standing in a circle with their arms folded. I can't hear what they're saying, but Emmett is nodding at whatever Jasper's telling him. He's looking at me with a small smile.

He looks happy right now, too.

Alice whirls back over, dropping a small knit thing into my lap. "Here you go."

I pick it up and unfold it. It's a beautiful hat made of the softest pale pink yarn. A delicate rose pattern adorns the edge. "Oh, my god, Alice," I breathe, running my fingers over it.

"I told you I'd make you something." Her voice is casual, but I can tell she's pleased by my response. "And now you can model it for me."

I place the hat at the crown of my head, pulling it down gently, then turn toward them. "Does it look okay?"

Alice comes over and yanks down on the front. "No need to be delicate with it. It's not going to break; it's more resilient than it looks." She leans back and plays with a few strands of my hair. "Gorgeous. I knew that color would work for you."

"Looking good. Of course, you could probably wear anything and make it work for you," Bella says.

Alice glares at her playfully. "I'd be offended by that except I know how much you love me and my designs, B." She turns her attention back to me. "So, will you model it for the site, Rose?"

"Yeah, sure. Let me just get the camera ready for you. You're going to take the pictures, right?" I reach for my camera, pausing when Alice's eyes go a little wide.

"Only if that's cool with you. I mean, I took a class, so I know the mechanics. But I also know your camera is your baby, so...I don't want to hurt it or anything."

"Alice, you do realize it's an inanimate object, right? You can't really _hurt _it." She's still looking unsure and I point to the hat on my head. "More resilient than it looks, right?" I give a pointed look at the camera that I'm holding out to her. "Same deal."

Sure, my camera is my baby but it's Alice. Somehow I know she's not going to treat it with anything but respect.

Alice looks across the yard to the guys, who are still standing around talking. "Emmett, I need you."

Emmett smacks Jasper in the chest. "Your girl needs me." He gives an exaggerated sigh and puffs up his chest. "Guess you're not providing enough." Jasper flips him the bird as Emmett saunters over to where we're standing, grabbing Bella as he walks past her and pulling the three of us close to him. "Ladies. What can I do you for?"

Alice wiggles out of his group hug and pulls a scarf from her bag of tricks. "You're going to model one more thing. This time with Rosalie."

He wrinkles his nose. "Ew, her? She's gross," he says, kiddingly.

"Thanks Em, lo -" I cut myself off suddenly, mortified.

Shit, I can't believe I actually almost said that. _Love you, too._ I mean, it would've been in a kidding manner, but still. I haven't even said it in a _non_-kidding manner yet. Saying it in this capacity would be totally weird.

"You what?" He's grinning and gently elbowing me in the ribs. Yeah, he's totally fucking with me now.

Thankfully Alice cuts in. "Over here, kids."

She starts directing us on where to stand and how. Although I'm tall, Emmett's much taller; it's really nice not have to slouch down taking pictures. When Roy and I went to dances - or really anywhere I was wearing something other than flats - I always found myself trying to compensate for our lack of height difference so we didn't look weird or off-balance. That's not a problem with Emmett. We fit in this way, too.

Alice takes some shots and then stops to fiddle with the camera settings. I giggle as we watch Bella attempt a really weak cartwheel toward Jasper and Edward. Jasper shakes his head before showing her how "it's really done."

Emmett's hands go to my waist and I wrap my arms up around his neck. My mind is still lingering on my almost-blunder. It's completely premature considering we haven't been hanging out that long, and that no one beyond this group of people even _knows _we're hanging out. But I still can't help but wonder if..._when _I might say those words to him, and if he'd say them back. I don't know if this is what love feels like, but whatever it is, it's more than anything I felt with Roy the entire time we were together.

And whatever it is, this moment, being here in his arms, feels picture perfect. Maybe that's all that matters right now.

"They love you, you know," Emmett murmurs, leaning his forehead against mine.

I pause, thinking about my answer. "Well, I love you guys, too," I finally say, hoping he gets what I mean. I _do _love this group of people. In the few short weeks that I've been hanging out with them, they've made me feel more like myself than I even knew existed. It's like I was searching for this but didn't even know until I drunkenly stumbled upon it.

_Is _it too soon to be feeling this way about Emmett? Too soon into hanging out with him, too soon after Roy? We haven't even established what we are to each other. Hell, we don't even walk down the halls at school together, don't talk there or interact beyond little touches and looks. I don't know how my friends (or Roy) would react, but I can't imagine it would be positive. _Judge or be judged_, as it goes in my group. Or at least that's what it feels like most of the time.

It doesn't feel that way here, though, and for now I like it with blinders on, hiding from the outside world.

Jasper's voice pulls me out of my musings. "Hey guys, Jake just texted me. Small shindig at La Push on Saturday. Just the rez kids and us if we want to go." He raises his eyebrows questioningly, dancing his phone in the air.

Edward kind of grimaces and shrugs. Bella glances at him to gauge his reaction before shrugging, too.

"You wanna?" Emmett says quietly in my ear. I shiver as his breath dances down my jaw.

I bite at my lip, unsure. That's the proverbial outside world, although a completely different one. I don't know any of the kids from the rez. I've heard about parties there, but my crew never goes. The boys always make this face when it comes up, muttering about the shitty beer and how the road to get to La Push fucks up their tires and dings their rims.

So what do I have to be nervous about? None of my friends will be there. I won't have to answer to anyone, won't have to explain why I'm suddenly showing up somewhere with Emmett when no one knows I've been hanging out with him. And more importantly, when three weeks ago I was with Roy.

I know I have to tell Jess and Lauren about Emmett, especially at the rate we're going. _Especially _after what we did in my room. This little nagging part of my brain whispers that I'm just scared, that I should just _say _it because I don't owe Jess or Lauren or Roy or even my parents any explanation about who I choose to be with. But the other part of me, the one that's used to doing what I'm supposed to do still hesitates.

I just want it to be me and him, just for a little bit longer. But I also know that I want to get there eventually, wherever _there _is.

Emmett's looking down at me, eyebrow raised, a small smile on his lips. I feel warm all over.

"Yeah, that sounds cool," I answer finally.

I'm trying to find my way. And this might be a good start.

**xoxo**

Monday goes like this: wake up in the morning thinking of the previous night's phone call with Emmett. Get ready while thinking of seeing Emmett at school. Get to school and see Emmett's Jeep in the parking lot. Heart starts racing. See Emmett in the hallway. Heart stops, re-starts and then begins racing again. Exchange looks over the shoulders of our friends. Get caught by his friends, but not by mine. Feel his gaze and smile on me all through English. Tap my lips to let him know I'm thinking about Sunday night when he walked me home from Edward's, when it took me twenty minutes to get from the bottom of my driveway to my front door. I can still feel his hands and I'm sure his eyes are tracing the curves he touched.

Football practice goes late, but when we talk later, he makes me promise I'll come over Tuesday for dinner.

"You don't want to disappoint Gram, Rose," he says solemnly. I can hear the grin in his voice.

"Well, I guess I can do it for Gram," I sigh, playing along.

He laughs, low and sleepy. "Whatever it takes to get you over here."

I think we both know it wouldn't take much at all.

On Tuesday morning, we pass by each other in the hall between third and fourth period. It's crowded, just crowded enough that I grab his hand, even though Lauren is on the other side of me, clutching my arm. His fingers wrap around mine and squeeze and then we separate, moving in opposite directions.

We follow a pattern: look but rarely touch. Watch but don't talk. Not until we're outside the walls of school, where what we have (_what _do _we have? _that nagging voice asks me) is just ours. Where we don't have to explain anything. Where it's easy and feels right.

I think about what it would be like to call Emmett my boyfriend, though, to have him walk me to class and drop a kiss on my forehead like Mike does with Jess. I think about it a lot. I rehearse what I'd say to Jess and Lauren, how I'd broach the subject, how they'd react.

And then I think about the fact that it's been three weeks since Roy and I broke up, how I'm already so much deeper in with Emmett than I ever was with Roy, and we're not even dating. I think about how scary that is and how we haven't talked about what we're doing now or what we're going to do in the future. I think about Jess and Lauren making snide comments under their breath about Vera and Roy, about the way they look at Alice and Jasper when they breeze by us in their _Star Wars _t-shirts, like they're from a different world. I guess in a way they are.

I'm pulled in a million different directions. It feels so good with Emmett - everything with him does - and when I'm with him and his friends, it's cool and chill. There are no expectations. That's _all _there is with my friends. I feel trapped by it. I know I'm breaking out of the mold, but it's one thing to take pictures for the newspaper. It's another thing to maybe-kind of-probably fall in love with a guy who I know won't mesh with my friends and probably wouldn't want to anyway. If we take this further, I know it's going to change a lot of things. Hell, Jess' relationship with Mike and Lauren's with Tyler has changed things between us and they're a part of our core group.

I realize somewhere, through all of my obsessive thinking, that as much as I _want _change, I'm scared of it, too. I'm scared of what it means to break away from the life I've always led. I wonder if part of me just isn't ready to let it go.

That thought stays with me for the rest of the day.

Later that night, at Emmett's house, I'm still recalibrating from my day as Posie. We're sitting at the small dining room table in the equally small dining room, eating dinner with Gram. The cannolis I picked up are in the middle of the table on a plate that looks as delicate and paper-thin as the skin on Gram's hands and wrists. Emmett keeps eyeing them and automatically reaches for them once his plate is empty, but she smacks his hand away, telling him he has to wait.

She looks so tiny next to him. He watches her while she eats (when he's not watching me), smiles when she waves her hands around talking about how Bob Cope cheats at bingo, and I can see that, to him, she's larger than life.

We talk all through dinner, which feels weird considering the dinner table at home is usually quiet. Maybe that's why I hate the sound of chewing so much. Gram has to remind Emmett about twenty times not to talk with his mouth full. She asks me about my college plans, and I feel Emmett's eyes on me when I tell her I'm applying to the Universities of Washington and Oregon and maybe Stanford, as a long-shot.

Gram turns to Emmett, her gaze almost defiant. "Emmie, you need to get started on your applications, too."

"Come on, Gram," Emmett groans, cutting into the cannoli he finally managed to filch.

"He doesn't want to leave me," she says, turning to me. I look over at Emmett, but he won't look back. His cheeks are flushed. "He keeps making other excuses for not going, but I know. He's a terrible liar."

"Please drop it," he mumbles around a mouthful of dessert.

Gram raises her eyebrows and pushes her plate away, folding her hands in front of her. She's got this glint in her eyes that I recognize from Emmett - it's mischievous and playful. "You don't want to talk about it in front of your girlfriend, honey?"

I don't know who's redder, Emmett or me. I stay silent and he does, too, for a few seconds that feel like hours. I don't know whether to confirm or deny what she's saying, so I wait for him instead.

"Gram, Rose and I are hanging out, okay?" he says finally, sounding almost unsure and definitely embarrassed.

"Oh, is _that _what they call going steady these days?" Gram throws me a wink for good measure, and I can't help laughing a little bit, even though this is totally uncomfortable. Emmett sighs sharply and she _tsks_. "Oh, let me have my fun. I'm 83 years old. My entertainment these days is torturing you and beating Bob Cope at bingo."

Emmett shakes his head and looks down at his watch. "Yeah, speaking of entertainment, time for you to go watch your show. Too bad we can't sit around and talk all night, huh?"

Later, we're tangled up on Emmett's bed, our lips just a few millimeters away from each other. We make out and touch, and talk in between that. He tells me about his mom, what he remembers, and then moves on to stories about Gram that make me press my face into his pillow to muffle my laughter. Somehow we end up talking about Roy, too, and I tell Emmett things I haven't even told Jess and Lauren, how it never really felt right with him. How it was like I was supposed to be with him, and so I was. How fake I felt at the end.

At some point, Emmett stops my words with his mouth and we kiss for an achingly long time after that. I think he hears what I wasn't saying - that he's so different. That I feel real with him.

When we finally take a break, I let my eyes wander around his room as he nuzzles his nose against my cheek, breathing me in. It's small and kind of messy; he ran around ahead of me and pushed clothes into piles with his foot when we came in here. I can tell all of the furniture is his gram's because it's a little old-school, ornate. Football trophies are scattered haphazardly on top of his dresser and his desk is stacked with school books and battered spiral notebooks, but no computer. My gaze goes back to the University of Washington sweatshirt draped over the chair. I asked him about it earlier, secretly hoping that he was thinking about going there too, but he just said it was where his dad went and then changed the subject.

I think I love his bed. It takes up nearly the whole room and is ridiculously comfortable, covered in soft, navy blue flannel sheets and a thick down comforter that's scrunched up at our feet right now.

"Sorry if Gram made you uncomfortable with that talk earlier," Emmett says in a low voice, pulling back a little bit.

I can hear the television in the next room. The walls are thin and even though I know her hearing isn't that great, I've been working extraordinarily hard not to make too much noise. It's not easy, not when he kisses like he does. Not when we've been touching like we have.

"So, is that what we're doing? Hanging out?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know," he whispers. The way he's looking at me makes me think he does know. I wonder if it's written on my face, too.

He doesn't say it, though, and neither do I. I guess I'm not the only one who's scared. We just don't have the courage to say the things we feel.

Not yet.

Still, I can't stop myself from thinking, _But when? _

**xoxo**

Thursday morning I'm getting ready for school, going back and forth about wanting to wear the hat that Alice gave me. I _want_to wear it. It's a small nod to the changes I've been moving toward. At the same time, it's just a hat. It's not a neon sign that says where I've been or who I've been hanging out with.

Plus, it looks really cute with my grey sweater.

Jess and Lauren raise their eyebrows at the hat when I meet up with them at my locker, but say nothing. I see Alice before first period and she beams when she sees that I'm wearing it. I don't care what my friends think of it after that; I know I've made the right choice.

"I feel like we never see each other anymore," Lauren complains as we walk toward English.

"We see each other every day," I point out. Jess is walking with us, but not; she and Mike are having a moment in the middle of the hallway, their heads bent together. She's whispering something in his ear and I feel a swell of jealousy.

"Yeah, but we used to hang out together like _every day _after school. And now, it's like I have to schedule an appointment to see my two besties. I feel like I don't even know what's going on in your life. I mean, whatever, I know you're busy with the honor society and you're doing the whole picture thing with the paper," she says, waving her hand in the air.

It's true; I've started going to more of the newspaper meetings, helping Angela and the rest of the staff where I can. It makes me feel special. Important. And I'm even able to talk to people without breaking out into a cold sweat. The paper gives me something to talk about, and the rest has come easier than expected.

She continues, "And Stan and I are busy with the boys, of course, but that doesn't mean that we need to ditch each other."

I roll my eyes at her pointing out my "singleness." _Oh, if you only knew, Lauren._"Well then, come over after school today. I'll pencil you in."

Jess pulls away from Mike as he heads to his class and overhears my invite. "Sounds good to me. That way I can see my adorable little boyfriend, Eric. Plus, we have to discuss your Homecoming attire, you know, since you ditched our mall date the other day." She pauses dramatically before intoning, "_And_the lucky guy who gets to bring our Posie to the dance."

My eyes automatically shift to take in the guy I'd_ like _to be my date, headed to the same classroom that we are. He's talking loudly with Edward about the party on Saturday at the rez and nearly bumps into Lauren when they both reach for the door at the same time. I hear him murmur an apology but it's drowned out by Lauren's reaction.

"Hello? Watch where you're going," Lauren huffs out, giving Jess and I a look like, _can you believe this guy?_ My heart plummets to my toes when Jess returns it, and then shoots Emmett a bemused frown.

"Really, Lauren? Necessary?" I mutter under my breath, but I know she hears it. I know he does, too.

Emmett shakes it off, pulling the door open and holding it open gallantly. "After you, _ladies._"

Lauren and Jess walk ahead, shaking their heads like Emmett has personally affronted them instead of doing something nice. I follow them in and my eyes meet his for the briefest of moments. I hope that they convey how sorry I am on behalf of my friends. I hear Edward clap Emmett on the shoulder and say something about killing 'em with kindness. He walks behind me and his fingers brush my back for just a moment, just enough to say that he knows and it's okay.

But it's not. Not really.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully and the afternoon finds Lauren and Jess racing up the stairs to my room with Eric at their heels, while I slowly meander behind. I'm still bothered by what happened outside of English. I'm less than enthusiastic about spending time with the girls who identify themselves as my best friends when I'm not feeling the love for them.

Jess throws herself on my bed, while Lauren sits on the floor. I settle in next to her and draw my knees up to my chest. They immediately start talking about our newly planned shopping trip to Port Angeles on Sunday, discussing the different shops we have to go to, what kind of dress would look best on me (short, stunning, and form-fitting, per Jess). Lauren even suggests getting something that plays off of her dress, since she's on the court too.

"Maybe I'll just wear one I already have," I say after two full minutes of strategy, picking at the nail polish on my thumb.

When I look up, Lauren's blinking at me. "Right," she finally draws out with a little laugh, like I'm joking. Jess rolls her eyes with a patented "silly Posie" smile on her face.

I wonder if they'd think it's a joke if I told them what Emmett and I did on that very bed not even a week ago. I can only imagine their reactions. And for the next five minutes, I _do _imagine their reactions. It makes my throat tight, makes me stay silent.

They prattle on, talking about the dress that Vera was wearing today, how short and weather-inappropriate it was.

"Pot, kettle," I finally say after they've been going and on for what feels like hours. These two can beat a dead horse for days.

Lauren throws me a playful glare, but moves on. "Ugh, could you believe Emmett McCarty in English? Going on and on about that lame rez party and then nearly walking into me. And then the whole, _After you, ladies._ Hi, could he _be _any more passive aggressive?"

I can't hold my annoyance back any longer. "Or, you know, could he be any more _nice_? Christ, Mallo, cut the guy some slack. He didn't mean anything by it."

We're quiet for a moment. Jess's mouth has drawn into a surprised "o" and Lauren's staring at me like I have two heads. She shrugs and says, "He's just weird, that's all."

"What are you talking about, he's weird? You don't even know him. What's so weird about him?" I give her a pointed look, expecting her to backpedal or at least give me an answer, but she just stares back at me blankly. "What, so he's weird because he's not part of our group?"

Lauren balks, shooting Jess a look before turning back to me. "Um, did I _say _that?"

"Well, you didn't say anything else, did you? I can't think of any other possible reason."

"What's your deal, Posie? Why are you getting up my ass about this? _You_ don't even know him."

"Yes, I do," I say before I can stop myself. Jess shifts on the bed and pulls Eric into her lap. I can feel her looking at me.

Lauren's expression turns dubious, mocking. "How?"

"We -" I stop, my anger deflating slightly at the look on Lauren's face. She's looking for something to get pissed about. I don't want it to be this. "We've talked, which is more than I can say for you." _Understatement of the century, Rosalie. _"I mean, we've gone to the same school since seventh grade, and it's not that big. Plus, he's Edward's best friend."

"Well it's not like Edward hangs out that much anymore anyway. We barely see him." She says this dismissively, complete with a hand wave.

But that's what they do. They dismiss anyone and anything that doesn't fit into this little world. And it _is _little. It's so small that barely anything will fit. I'm not sure _I _fit.

I wonder if they'll do that to me. It's this thought that stalls me momentarily, that brings the fear creeping back in like slow-moving fog. As pissed as I am at them right now, as much as I want to say "fuck it" and tell them everything, I'm stupidly worried about losing them to this, or at all. No matter what, they've been my best friends since I can remember, and even before that. I can't get past the fear. It's exhausting.

"I see Edward all the time and..." I trail off. They're both staring at me. It feels like they're judging me and I shift uncomfortably, hating that I'm on this side of the fence. It's different when I watch them do this to someone else. But I can't help defending Emmett. Their attitude toward him is wrong, so misguided. "You just didn't have to say what you said to Emmett earlier, okay? He was being nice and you were totally rude."

"Who cares?"

"Jesus, Lauren -" I begin, exasperated.

Jess holds her hand up. "Okay, stop. That's enough. Why are you guys fighting over Emmett McCarty of all people? Let's move on." She rolls over, raking her hand through my hair affectionately, but I'm burning from her words. _Of all people? _"Where's your yearbook?"

"Where it always is, Jess. Bottom shelf." My voice is thick with irritation and I take a deep breath, reminding myself that they don't know. They don't get it. "Hold on, I'll grab it." Crawling across the floor, I grab the yearbook and make my way back over. "Why do you need it?"

"We've got to figure out your date for Homecoming, of course."

"I don't want -"

Jess' head snaps toward me so fast I'm surprised it doesn't fly off. "You have to go with someone, Rosalie Hale." _Awesome, she full-named me._ "Roy's taking Vera, you know, and this is our senior year. We're making memories here. Plus, you know you're going to be Queen and the Homecoming Queen can't go stag."

I have this sudden vision of how Homecoming would go down if I just told them right now that I want to go with Emmett. That we've not just talked, but hung out and kissed and touched. That I feel things for him that could be really, really important someday.

And then I think about what it would be like sharing a limo with Jess and Lauren and everyone else and hanging out with them. I think about Roy, who would probably spend the entire time glowering at Emmett and me. God, it would be so awkward. I wouldn't want to put him through that, or myself for that matter.

So I won't.

"Whatever," I say with a sigh.

"Atta girl," Jess replies, choosing to ignore my less than enthusiastic response. "Now. Who should our Posie take the Homecoming?"

Jess hands the book to Lauren, who immediately starts leafing through the book. She flips over so she can look over Lauren's shoulder and they start pointing out guys and mentioning acquaintances from Port Angeles Prep. The acceptable ones, according to them.

I don't want to go to Homecoming with any of them. I don't want to go to Homecoming at _all. _But I have to, and if I want them to leave me alone about going with anyone else, I need to come up with a solution fast. Emmett and I may not be official and we haven't talked about going together, but I doubt he'd be excited about me going with some random guy. I would hate it if he went with another girl. Hell, I don't even know if he's going, if he'd _want_ to. Given the fact that I've only seen him at two other dances, always with a date and looking like he was being slowly tortured, my guess is no.

That thought spurs another one, reminding me of a conversation I had with an old friend in his driveway. Bella will be in Phoenix and he has to go since he's on the court, too. It might still be awkward since he hasn't really been a part of this group for years, but it'll be bearable. We'll go, get our shit done, and then ditch as soon as we can. It'll be easy. Painless. No explanation needed.

I justify it so quickly. Maybe _too_ quickly. Because before I know exactly what I'm doing, I say it out loud. "I'll go with Edward."

* * *

><p>Trust us?<p>

All of our love per usual to the usuals: Accio is our beta/north star. JD and V carry pompoms and know how to shake 'em. ;) And you guys! Are amazing. We can't tell you enough (but we try)! We love seeing you every chapter and getting to chat with you.

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All right, back on Monday. Have a great weekend!


	11. Chapter 11 Friends in Low Places

Chapter 11 - Friends in Low Places

I barely see Emmett at school on Friday. He walks into English late, which must mean he was with Gram during lunch. I wish I could have snuck away with him. Instead, I sat at my usual table, ignoring Roy making out with Vera (during which I saw tongue). Mike and Tyler spent the lunch hour working out the logistics of the post-Homecoming party Mike was throwing (which I was hoping to get out of). I could tell The Roy and Vera Show was being put on specifically for me, because every time I happened to glance in their direction, I saw him watching me out of the corner of his eye.

_So classy._

When Emmett walks past our desks, he throws Jess, Lauren and me a smile that's quick and casual. I don't look at the girls, but I can tell by the little shake of his head that I'm probably the only one who smiles back. I give them the cold shoulder for the rest of the day.

I don't get to hear his voice until much later. The team had an away game at Montesano, and even though he texted me before the game saying he would be home late, I'm going crazy by eleven. I need to hear his voice. I've been in my room all night, staring at the ceiling while old episodes of _Scrubs _play in the background, thinking about him and Homecoming and what exactly I'm going to say to him about asking Edward to go.

I don't know what his expectations are. The fact that we haven't talked about it when it's only a couple weeks away makes me think he doesn't have any.

A thought suddenly hits me: what if someone else asks him? What if he says yes, since I've now tethered myself to Edward? I cover my eyes with the crook of my arm, cursing my lack of forethought.

I'm going to make myself sick over this.

I pick up the phone and go to my recent call log, tapping on his name. It rings for what feels like forever, but finally I hear the click of a connection and then rustling. His voice is rough and low. He sounds exhausted as he tells me he just got home. Apparently it was a bad game; they lost and then got ripped apart by Coach Clapp because it should've been an easy win.

"So, basically now he's all freaked about the Homecoming game next week," he says with a sigh. "Rainier's a pretty easy team, but after the way we fell apart tonight, we've got to get our shit together. And Coach said we all have to make an appearance at the dance on Saturday whether we win or not."

My heart jumps at the mention of the dance and how put out he sounds about having to attend. "Were you not going to go?"

"Dances aren't usually my thing. Or _our _thing, I guess. Swan has two left feet, so Edward gets an automatic out and Alice and Jas don't really care about them." He pauses. "And I never really had a reason before. So I guess I just haven't thought about it, you know?"

"Yeah," I reply lamely, and then swallow. I have no idea how he's going to receive the news I'm about to give him, if he'll care or not. I mean, it's not like I'm going with a random guy or even worse, Roy. Edward's his best friend and it obviously won't mean anything. So, instead of beating around the bush, I figure I might as well spit it out. "So, uh...I was thinking about asking Edward if he wanted to drop by there with me for a while, since we're both on the court and have to make an appearance. It would be really quick, you know. No big deal. I don't even _want _to go, but..."

My heart is racing now as I sit here, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

He's not saying a word. And mine are just hanging there like an incomplete thought.

"Em? Did I lose you?"

He clears his throat and when he speaks, his voice is no longer low. If anything, it's sharp, which is new. "Um, no, I'm here. Just processing. Right, no big deal. My best buddy is going to take you to the dance while I stand there with my thumb up my ass. That sounds like a great time."

_Whoa_.

My heart sinks. It sounded okay in my head, but when he puts it that way, in that tone, it sounds...idiotic. "Listen, I just thought it would be easier all around. Go, do the court thing and then get out of there."

"Okay, well, do what you've gotta do, Hale," he replies shortly. There's a rustling noise, like he's pulling the covers over his head. "I'm tired. Let's talk tomorrow, okay?"

I roll over onto my side, sandwiching the phone between my ear and the pillow. My stomach and heart feel so heavy. "You're upset."

"I'm more tired than upset. The Homecoming dance really doesn't mean that much to me in the way of big life events."

"Obviously not, since this is the first time we're talking about it," I remind him. Yeah, the idea of Edward and me going to Homecoming together is new, but so is this _entire_ subject. Still, the quiet between us is tense. I let out a soft sigh. "The dance is a week away, Em, and we're not really..." I stop, unsure of how to say it. "Jess and Lauren know we talk, kind of, but they've never even seen us interacting. I think it'd be a little out of left field if _that _was how we announced...this."

"Right. This." His voice is softer now, quieter.

"And honestly, do you really want to go with Jess and Lauren and everyone?" I continue, gaining steam. It feels like I'm trying to talk us both into this. "I mean, they're going to make it really awkward for us. Roy's going to be there with Vera, and he's been kind of an ass since we broke up and -"

"Rose, I get it," he interrupts, but he doesn't sound angry anymore. "I don't particularly like it, but I get it. Like I said, I don't care about the dance. I'll be there, _alone_," he emphasizes that and I feel my heart squeeze, "because I have to be. I just don't want it to be like we're hiding, you know?"

"I know," I say quietly. "Let me just get Homecoming over with, okay? I don't want to deal with the weirdness of it, but after that..."

"After that?"

"I want to be with you, Emmett." The words slip out so easily and it feels more like a declaration, a promise. Even if I haven't said that to everyone else, I know now after this conversation that I need to say it to him. We've shared so much of ourselves, have danced around the subject of us, but now it's out there. Now he knows.

There's a slow exhalation of breath on the other end of the line and then he says, "Well, we're on the same page there, then."

We're quiet for a minute and I stare at the wall, wishing I hadn't turned this into a secret. I didn't mean to, but that's what it's become. Secrets are created when you're ashamed. Only it's not Emmett I'm ashamed of, it's my friends' reactions. It's _me _I'm ashamed of, because for how badly I want to change, I'm also terrified of it. I'm making small strides, but is that enough anymore?

"Are we okay?" I ask finally, because he's still not talking and I'm tired of thinking so damn much.

"We're okay," Emmett says, and I can hear the truth in his voice. "Go to sleep, Rosalie. We've got the rez tomorrow night. At least you can be all mine there." I recognize the tone of his voice; it's still tired, but more playful now, teasing.

I smile and close my eyes. "I'm all yours anyway, McCarty."

"You will be," he murmurs. He sounds close to sleep and I wish I were there with him, lying in his bed while we whispered to each other. I want that all the time.

I know I can have it. I just have to get there.

**xoxo**

The house is quiet as it always is, although more recently it doesn't feel as lonely for some reason. My bedroom door is closed, locking in the music wafting out of my iPod. I'm digging through my closets and drawers yet again, trying to figure out what to wear for the rez party. For some reason, I'm more nervous about fitting in there than I ever was about fitting in at the parties that Mike throws, which seems backwards. I'm probably completely overthinking this, but that's what I tend to do, always.

It's what I'm finally learning to let go of... but bad habits are hard to break, as I know too well.

And now I'm overthinking overthinking. _Brilliant._

I finally decide on jeans and a tank and am nearly dressed when there's a soft knock at my door, then a creak.

"Sweetie?"

"Yes?" I call toward the door, my voice muffled as I look for my shoes in the closet.

My mom and Eric appear next to me, her free hand resting on her hip. "Where are you off to?"

I pause for a moment, thinking about what I should tell her. _How about the truth, Rose?_"I'm going to a party at the reservation, with Edward and a couple of friends." I throw Edward's name in there, knowing that will soften whatever reaction she might have.

She arches a brow at my mention of the reservation but says nothing in regards to that. "Is Edward still with his girlfriend? Bella, right?"

Her tone is curious, probably because I dropped the news that I'm going to Homecoming with him at dinner when the topic came up. Actually, after I informed them that I'd be going to Port Angeles in search of a dress with the girls tomorrow, the conversation naturally turned toward my date. I didn't go into too much detail then, but it appears that Mom wants the goods now.

"He is. She's going to be visiting her mom in Arizona over Homecoming weekend, so rather than us going stag-"

She interrupts. "Please, Rosalie. We both know that you can't go to the dance stag. How would that look?"

God, I wish she were kidding with that comment, but by the earnest frown pulling on her lips, I know she's not.

"Right," I say, hoping to stop her from talking because her comments are annoying me. "So since Bella's not going to be around and _rather than us go stag_," I repeat my words, emphasizing them so she realizes how silly she's being, "We're going together. No big deal."

_No big deal. _I've repeated that phrase so many times now, most recently to Edward when I called this morning about going to Homecoming together. After what seemed like a fifty-minute pause, he asked why the hell I'd want to go with him and not Emmett. I gave him the same spiel I gave Emmett, hoping he'd understand on a more intuitive level what I didn't want to deal with, especially with Roy. He's been friends with that crew for as long as I have, so he knows what they can be like - cliquey in the worst way, especially with people who aren't a part of said clique.

Edward had sighed and hedged and told me how stupid an idea it was, but finally broke down and agreed when I told him Emmett already knew.

The shortness of my answer must have an impact because my Mom switches gears to yet another annoying topic. "I don't know if I like the idea of you going to the reservation, Rosalie. Don't they do drugs there?"

_Jesus Christ, Mom! They do drugs down the street in Mike's backyard._

I choose the less abrasive, more complimentary route instead. "You raised me to make good choices."

A second later, I hear a quick horn-honk and I hold my breath, giving her my best _please, please,_ _please_ pout until she nods once. "You've got your phone, right?" I wave it in the air before pocketing it. She glances out the window and immediately a hand is up in the air, the light glinting off her diamond engagement ring. "Hold up. I thought you said you were going with Edward. That is _not _Edward's car."

I walk to stand next to her, peering out the window to see Jasper's car in our driveway. It's old and out of place and my mom is looking at it quite dubiously. Shrugging, I act like it's not a big deal, hoping that she won't say anything more. I lean in, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "I guess Jasper's driving tonight."

"Have I met Jasper?" She follows me out of my room, pulling the cardigan off my chair as she passes, and trails me down the stairs.

"Um, I don't know if you have." She definitely hasn't. "He's on the football team." And then I go for broke. "And he's one of Edward's best friends, so Esme and Carlisle know him well."

She murmurs behind me, but I don't hear any arguments, so I ease the door open and wave my hand out the door before looking at her. She's standing there, at the bottom of the steps with Eric still pressed against her side. Suddenly, she looks older. I trot back to her and press another kiss against her cheek. She hands me the cardigan and we walk to the open door together.

"I'll call you when I get there, okay?"

"You know, if you feel uncomfortable, you can call me to come get you," she says. Then she tacks on, "No questions asked."

I raise an eyebrow at the adder.

"Okay, fine. You know I'd ask questions. But Rosalie, be safe, okay? You're the only one I've got."

"You better cover Eric's ears when you say thing like that," I say dryly, but I feel a twinge of guilt or sadness. Maybe a little bit of both.

My mom's gaze slips past me as footsteps crunch softly behind us. Her expression turns guarded, intimidating, but I see a glimmer of curiosity there. And when I turn around, I know why.

Emmett's coming up the walkway, dressed in dark jeans and a gray hoodie. His hair is wild, like he was wearing a hat, but took it off. The thought makes me smile, even as my heart pounds. _Ever the gentleman. _

But oh god, then I realize that my mom and Emmett are going to meet. They're going to _talk_. I want to grab his hand and run to Jasper's car. I can see him and Alice in there, waiting. They're both grinning. Alice wiggles her fingers at me, her mouth opening in silent laughter.

I sway toward Emmett when he gets close, my heart picking up its pace as it always does when he's nearby. I don't want things to be weird with us after our conversation last night. When he smiles at me, sweet and determined, I know that things are okay. And then he directs that smile at my mom. She blinks when he says hello.

"Oh," she says, darting a glance at me before looking up at Emmett. The guarded expression falls away. Curiosity has completely replaced it. "Are you Jasper?"

"No, I'm Emmett McCarty. I'm a friend of Rose's." And then, _oh_, he holds out his hand to her. I want to take it for myself. I want to grab him and kiss him for getting out of the car, for making an effort. I know most guys wouldn't bother.

Then again, Emmett isn't most guys.

I hold my breath, watching silently as their hands clasp briefly. "Oh," she repeats. I look at her, trying to gauge her mood. Her earrings sparkle underneath the porch lights. Her hair looks as icy as her diamonds, but her expression is slightly warmer. "Well, you kids be careful tonight. Rose usually stays in the neighborhood, so I'm a little nervous about her going that far out."

"Mom, it's okay," I say, exasperated.

Emmett nudges me gently. I can tell by the way her eyes crinkle at the corners, thoughtful, that she catches it. "Absolutely, we'll be careful. I wouldn't let anything happen to her, Mrs. Hale."

My heart expands at his words, and I brush my pinky against his. God, I want to touch him. Kiss him.

Mom looks at him appraisingly and I swear I see one corner of her mouth twitch before she turns to me with an arched eyebrow. "Remember that your curfew is midnight."

"One," I counter. Or plead, really.

"Only in the neighborhood."

The statement leaves no room for debate. I shouldn't press my luck. If my dad were here, he'd order me home by ten. He works so much that I rarely see him, though, which means he rarely has any say in my comings and goings.

"Midnight it is," Emmett says. "That's no problem."

I tug at his sleeve. "Okay, whatever. We have to go. See you later, Mom."

She nods, adjusting Eric on her hip. He stares at me, his nose twitching in the night air. "Uh huh, at midnight."

Emmett smiles, all dimples and white teeth, so boyish. I don't know how anyone could resist that smile. My mom's a pretty tough customer, and he seems to be holding his own with her. "It was really nice meeting you, Mrs. Hale."

"You, too, Emmett," she replies. Her hand goes to her pocket, but I don't stick around to see what she's doing. Instead, I push Emmett gently, urging him down the steps toward Jasper's car.

"Hi," he murmurs, his lips pulled up softly. Our hands brush against one another, our fingers intertwining for a split second. Goosebumps erupt everywhere, spread across my skin like fire.

"Am I okay wearing this?"

His eyes are as dark as the sky above us and he lets his gaze linger a little bit, probably longer than is safe. I don't care; I love the way he looks at me, the way I feel when his eyes are on me like this. "You're perfect."

The night is so quiet that I'm sure my mom hears him say that and hears my breath hitch, too. I don't turn around to see her reaction.

Emmett opens the car door for me, waiting as I slide into the backseat. It smells like cinnamon and cloves and kind of like Fritos. Food wrappers crunch beneath my feet and Portishead wafts out of the speakers.

"Hey, Ro," Alice says, reaching back to squeeze my leg. She's wearing a knit hat with little mouse ears, her lips painted bright red.

"Hey, Al," I reply, trying it out. I'm rewarded with a brilliant smile.

"Did you win the missus over, Beaver Cleaver?" Jasper asks, as soon as Emmett settles himself next to me.

"They're called manners, dickhead," he replies easily, pulling his hat off Alice's headrest and putting it on. His legs are too long for the back seat, but I like that his knee presses against mine. I like it even more when his arm stretches along the seat behind me. I press back into him, my hand curling around his thigh. I grin when it tenses underneath my touch.

Jasper chuckles under his breath as he pulls out of the driveway. I turn, looking out the back window to see that my mom's still standing just outside the door, silhouetted by the soft light streaming out from inside. And then I see something illuminated in her hand. Her phone.

"Oh, Jesus," I groan.

Emmett twists in his seat and then raises his eyebrows at me. "Why 'oh, Jesus?' What's she doing?"

"I'm pretty sure she's calling Esme."

I reach for my seat belt, only to find that it won't budge.

"Seat belts are optional, Ro," Jasper says, watching me in the rear view mirror.

Emmett chuckles and adds, "Yeah, mainly because the majority of them don't work." His arm hold tightens around me and I relax into his side. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe." His voice is low, meant for my ears only, but I'm pretty sure that Alice and Jasper can hear him anyway, gauging by the look they exchange. He raises his voice. "And hey, no worries about your mom calling Esme, either. She's a fan."

"This is true," Alice chimes in, turning in her seat to look back at us. "In fact, if it weren't for Doc C..."

"Alice, stop," he grumbles beside me, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

"What?" She's mock indignant. "All I'm saying is that Esme totally loves you."

Emmett puffs up his chest. "What's not to love?"

"I could name a few things," Jasper says. Emmett leans forward so he can smack him upside the head before settling back into the seat.

The conversation continues, an easy back and forth. There's no tension left between us from last night. I lean against Emmett, acutely aware of every place we're touching, along with where I wish we were and aren't. I watch the shadows of the trees whizzing past us, my fingers threaded through his. There are few streetlights along the main road and even fewer cars. Not much traffic in this part of the state, I guess.

"Nearly there," Alice comments, and starts flipping though the CDs in the console. With a triumphant "A-ha!" she pulls one out and opens the plugged-in CD player with a flick of her finger.

"That's what we call fully loaded," Jasper jokes. They all reach over to lower their windows. Emmett nudges me to do the same as "Friends in Low Places" starts blasting out of the car's tinny speakers.

I catch Emmett's eye, raising a curious eyebrow at the obvious significance of the song. He shrugs before leaning over, his mouth close to my ear. "It's just something we do every time we come here, giving Jake and the rez kids shit about being our friends in low places. You know, since we're all sort of in the same boat."

"Oh." I nod like I know, but I don't. Not really. I turn my gaze out the window, the butterflies flaring back up when I see people milling around, hear laughter and music. I take a deep breath, forcing the panic down, trying to tap into calm, cool and collected.

Jasper noses the car into a spot between two similar-looking cars. I look around, noticing Edward's Volvo at the far end of the makeshift lot, facing the tree line. It looks out of place with the rest of the cars here, too shiny and new.

We climb out, Jasper leaving his keys on the floor.

"About time you showed," Edward shouts over as he makes his way toward us. He's impressively holding six red Solo cups, three in each hand, and he doles them out. Jasper shakes his head, nodding back to the car.

"Where's B?" Alice asks, standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck, attempting to spot Bella over the throngs of kids. There are more people here than I expected but I guess that the rez has quite a few residents. Not that I would know. I've never really been here before, aside from a 7th grade trip when our Social Studies teacher focused on different cultures. The elders had shown us what a tribal counsel looked like while the children sneered at us; it was clear that they felt like they were on display.

"She's talking to Jake." Edward shrugs and looks down at the ground, balancing the remaining two beers between his hands. I take the extra beer from him. "Double fisting, Hale?"

He grins, but I can tell that he's uncomfortable. I wonder if he feels the same way about being here as I do. We're both a little out of our element and so far, no one's come to welcome us with open arms.

I raise my cup in a mock salute. He does the same, his smile going wry.

The group scatters a bit, walking onto the beach and toward the fire. Alice and Jasper wander over to a kid sitting on a piece of driftwood with a guitar. He stands, exchanging a complicated handshake with Jasper. Edward makes a beeline for Bella, who's standing with two tall, dark-haired guys. The taller one stops grinning as soon as Bella catches sight of Edward. _That must be Jake._I can feel the tension from here. I elbow Emmett, nodding my chin toward them.

"What's up with that?"

Emmett looks over and lets out a little chuckle as he twists his hat backwards. "Oh yeah, Jake's not a fan of Edward."

"I can see that, thank you." He grins widely, flashing me dimples. I roll my eyes, even as my heart skips a beat. "And that's because..."

"Because he has Bella, for one, and Jake has a thing for her." He weaves his fingers through mine and gently yanks me closer. "And Jake's sensitive about money, too, you know? Jasper and I can get away with giving him shit with the friends in low places joke and whatever, but that's because we're in the same boat."

"Edward would never give him shit, though," I argue. "He would never rub the fact that he has money in anyone's face."

Emmett gives me a pointed look. "I know he wouldn't, and he never has, but that doesn't matter to Jake and these guys. They've have had a lot of run-ins with the kids in your neighborhood over the years. They used to get a lot of grief for not having the money to get the right equipment when we were all in peewee football -"

"From who?" I ask, although I have a sinking feeling I know exactly whose name he's going to say.

"Roy, for one. All those guys." Emmett stops, crossing his arms in front of him, and I mirror him. He looks deep in thought for a second before he shakes his head, his gaze going back to Jake. "Hell, they did it to me, too. We were young and kids can be assholes when someone else is 'different.' And he's told me stories about how they used to throw parties that were more for everyone. Kids from our high school - kids from _your _neighborhood - would show up and act like total dicks. They'd trash the place, drink all the beer, and then bail. Sam, one of the older guys, put a stop to it a few years ago. That's why it's so chill now. They're careful about who they let hang out."

I look around. There are maybe twenty people here, most of them obviously from the rez. We're the only ones from town, from what I can tell. The vibe is mellow, still celebratory, but a major change from the parties I go to with loud, thumping music coming from expensive speakers. And I definitely stand out with my blonde hair and pale skin. No amount of suntanning could ever bring me close to the olive complexion of the kids from the rez, not that I go out in the sun without sunscreen. My mom has drilled it into my head that I'm a Winter.

"Great, well, he's going to _love _me then," I say dryly.

Emmett shakes his head, pulling me against his side protectively. "Don't worry about it, okay? Let's just have fun."

Right, fun. I take a deep breath and push away my discomfort. I focus instead on the fact that Emmett and I are here together, that we have the whole night.

A little liquid courage never hurt anyone, though. I take a sip of the beer Edward handed us. It's Beast, but I screw up my face and down it quickly anyway, placing the empty cup under the full one. The fire brings back memories of the first night Emmett and I were together, when I was so shy and almost too nervous to talk. My body reacts to his every movement. I burn with his eyes on me. Every time I catch his eye, I know that he feels the same.

Edward makes his way back to us with another cup of beer for each of us, maybe just looking for something to do. I wonder if we naturally gravitate toward each other because we're both interlopers here. Bella keeps looking over her shoulder, like she wants to follow him, be with him, but Jake is talking loudly, his hands waving animatedly in the air. He keeps reeling her back in.

The topic of Homecoming comes up, and Edward jokes about bringing me as his date. Emmett gives him a look before his eyes slide toward me. "Oh. You asked him already?"

"Uh, yeah," I say, shifting uncomfortably. "I called him earlier today."

Edward shoots me a disapproving look before turning back to Emmett. "Dude, if you're not -"

Emmett cuts him off. "No, man, it's fine. We talked about it already."

Edward looks from Emmett to me and back again, then shrugs. "All right, whatever, I'll be the stand-in. Just don't ask me to bust out any crazy dance moves, okay, Hale?"

"I'm hoping to be there for as short a time as possible, so hopefully that won't be necessary," I reply, looking sideways at Emmett as I link my pinkie through his. He squeezes and for a second I think he'll let go. He doesn't, so I slide the rest of my fingers through his.

"Okay, well, I'll leave you guys to it. I'm going to go check on Bella," Edward replies, throwing us a wave before making his way back toward the bonfire.

"Are you sure you're not mad about this?" I ask when Edward's out of earshot and we're alone again. I tug on his hand lightly. He pulls me close, the corners of his mouth pulling up, just a little bit.

"Like I said, you do what you need to do. I just wish..." He stops talking and I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

"You wish what?" I prompt.

He takes my beer and sets it on the ground, along with his, before turning to me again. "I wish you could see yourself like I do."

Gently, I put my arms around his neck and he slowly wraps his around my body. Tilting my head back, I stare at the stars above. "How do you see me?"

"You're smart," he begins, placing a kiss on my forehead, "And funny, even when you don't mean to be." Another kiss, this time at my temple. I close my eyes, feel the way his mouth curls up as he continues, "Actually, especially when you don't mean to be. You're beautiful, especially when you blush." His lips travel down to my cheek. "You're talented. I wish you could see your face when you pick up a camera. When you know what you want, you go for it. And you can have _anything_ you want, Rose."

I inhale sharply, pulling back to look up at him. Those words sound so different coming from him than they have from anyone else. It feels freeing rather than constricting.

"Can I return the favor?" I request, brushing a kiss across his lips.

He grins. "You know how I feel about reciprocity, Hale."

I take a deep breath. It's kind of a daunting task, because I could probably go on for hours. I resolve to keep it to a top five list. "You're beautiful on the outside, but even more on the inside. You accept people for who they are. You're loyal and love your friends, but you're nice to everyone, even when they're bitches to you," I say, thinking of Jess and Lauren the other day.

He laughs, probably thinking the same. "That's a Gram thing." His voice goes high in a spot-on impression of her. "'You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Emmie.'"

"I very much like your honey," I murmur. His grin is downright sinful. I press my thumb against his lips, running it along his bottom one. It's so warm. "And the way you take care of Gram is unbelievable. I bet your mom would be so proud of you."

He's wearing his soft smile now, with a gaze to match it. "I hope so." I open my mouth to continue and he quirks an eyebrow. "There's more?"

"Oh yes, and this is the biggest one."

"Hell yeah, it is."

I snort, then lean forward on the balls of my feet, letting him catch me. I press my ear against his chest, right over his heart. "Even before I knew you like this, I really envied how comfortable you are in your skin. You make no apologies for what you want or what you do, Em, and especially for who you are. I wish I could be like that."

His hand goes to my head, cradling it there, and his voice is a deep rumble against my cheek. "You can."

"I want to," I whisper. "But it's scary."

"It's worth it." His mouth goes to my ear. "I promise."

I nod, then whisper, "I'm sorry, Em."

"For?"

I press myself closer, letting my voice show the vulnerability I don't want him to see painted across my face, in my burning eyes. "Making you feel shitty about all of this. Making it way more complicated than it needs to be."

"I just don't want to be a secret, and that's what it feels like now."

"It's not _you_, though, it's me."

"Wow, really?" he says with a laugh as I let out a frustrated growl.

"That came out completely wrong." I take a deep breath, trying again. "I just mean that _I'm _the secret, not you. I've been hiding all of these parts of me because I'm afraid people won't understand. And it's not just what's going on between us. It was hiding how bad my relationship with Roy was and not being open about how important my photography is and feeling like I didn't belong anymore. And I know I shouldn't be afraid to show anyone who I really am, and I _know_ it doesn't make any sense to you because you're _you_, but that's where I'm at. That's where I've been."

"It makes sense," he murmurs with a sigh, pulling me even closer. His lips brush against my temple. "You drive me a little crazy, Hale, you know that?"

"Maybe you're just crazy _about _me," I suggest, wanting to take us back to lightness.

He laughs easily. "I'm definitely that."

We stand like that for a few minutes, quiet, just breathing and holding on, before he pulls back. I do, too, but just my head, keeping the rest of me pressed against the rest of him. It's dark out here, but I can still see everything in his eyes.

His gaze goes to my mouth. All of the things that were pushed to the back of my mind during this conversation disappear completely. Homecoming, my friends, this beach and how convoluted everything is, it's all gone. It's just me and him.

"Let's go somewhere else," I murmur.

"Where?"

I nod my head toward the tree line, where it's even darker, more secluded. I feel a little exposed here, even though I'm sure no one's paying attention to us.

We make our way up a small incline and I stumble a little on the pebbly sand beneath us. Laughter and loud music wafts up from the fire and shoreline, but as we get further away, it gets quieter until it's only a gentle hum.

As soon as we're hidden by trees, he turns and pulls me close. My arms go around his neck and I bring his mouth down to mine. He places one hand on my hip, the other winding around my waist, his palm sliding up underneath my shirt, hot against my cold skin. I feel him smile, his lips parting, so mine do, too, and then I feel his tongue and taste him. I can hear the ocean hissing against the shoreline, can feel the breeze and his fingers in my hair. All of my senses are heightened, and at the same time, it all disappears.

He presses me even closer and angles my head with his hand so that the kiss goes deeper, gets more urgent. His hand skims up my side, getting close to just one of the places I'm aching for his fingers to be, and I make an impatient sound in the back of my throat.

"Want more of that?" he whispers, breaking away just enough that I can see his dark eyes and flushed cheeks and the glisten of his bottom lip.

"Want more of you," I murmur, taking his lip between my teeth softly.

He inhales sharply and then his mouth covers mine again. He runs his thumb just above the underwire of my bra, teasing me. I discovered the other night that he loves to do this, take his time touching me everywhere. It's amazing and at the same time almost painful, because it makes me want too much. It makes me want it all. I want to be in his bed or mine, alone with him. _Really _alone.

But we're not. Raucous laughter, along with someone calling out Emmett's name, reminds us of that and we break apart.

"Shit," he breathes. He brings me close again and rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes for a second before opening them to me again. They're hazy and dilated and full of the same things I'm feeling.

"Dude, where the hell is McCarty?" a deep voice calls out from somewhere not that far away. Emmett's hand is up my shirt still and I try to wiggle away from him, which only makes him pull me closer with a wicked grin.

"I would really announce yourself loudly before you walk too far up there, Jake," I hear Bella reply.

"Incoming cockblock," Jasper booms. Emmett curses under his breath with a laugh, dropping his hand to my hip.

There are heavy footsteps and I finally manage to extricate myself from Emmett's arms reluctantly. He grabs my wrist before I get too far, pulling me back to him. "Don't go anywhere, Hale. I've got a bit of a situation here."

"So I feel," I reply, smirking. His exhaled chuckle fans out against my hair and he inhales like he's going to say something, but then Jake comes into view. The cocksure grin he's wearing dims when he catches sight of us.

"What's up, man? You can't say hi?" he says. He makes a head-to-toe sweep of me, checking me out, but not in the way I'm used to with guys. His eyes narrow when they make it back up to my face before he turns to Emmett, dismissing me.

It feels familiar, although I'm on the other side of it now. I recognize that look; I've seen Jess and Lauren wear it countless times. I'm sure _I've _worn it countless times.

Emmett steps out from behind me, taking my hand. "We were just hanging out here for a minute. Jake, this is Rosalie. Rose, Jake."

I give Jake a tight smile that he doesn't return. There's a tension in the air, not unlike what I noticed with Edward and Jake. When I look over at Emmett, I can tell he's noticed it, too. The corners of his mouth are pulled more out than up.

"What, one rich kid at the party wasn't enough?" Jake finally replies. He grins like he's teasing. I know he's not.

"Chill, kid," Emmett says jovially, but there's an undercurrent of "or else" to his voice.

"Nice to meet you, too, Jake," I add with a completely obvious fake smile. I can't help myself. Maybe it's the Beast that I downed or his automatic attitude toward me - and my sensitivity about the unfairness of it - but it just slips out. Emmett squeezes my hand.

"Oh, we've met," Jake responds.

I furrow my brow in confusion. "Have we?"

"More or less." He mutters something about people like me all being the same, and I recoil for a second before looking at Emmett, my eyes wide. _People like me?_I'm seething over a comment by someone I've barely said two words to and I realize that my fears of not fitting in earlier are valid.

"Excuse me? People like me?" All eyes are on me and I shrug, though not helplessly. _Might as well keep going._"I'm sorry, refresh my memory here. What the hell did I ever do to you?"

Jacob crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing." He turns back to where Bella is standing and starts walking toward her, throwing the comment over his shoulder. "But there's a reason we don't let you rich kids chill here anymore. I'm sure you know what I mean."

Emmett's hand tightens around mine tension running through his arm. "Dude, what are you -"

Squeezing his hand tightly, a surge of adrenaline and alcohol courses through my body. The tension, the pressure of the past weeks decides to finally make itself known with a willing sparring partner. I'm tired of keeping quiet. "No wait, let's talk about this for a second here. I'm sure we can both be rational."

Jake turns back towards me with a dubious expression, his jaw muscle flexing. He stares me down, waiting silently.

"So you're pissed because some other kids were assholes to you guys years and years ago? And because my family has money, too, I'm automatically like that? Or..." I cock my head, trying to figure out his vantage point.

"I just think it's pretty interesting that all of a sudden you're here slummin' like your friend Cullen over there." He gestures toward Edward, who's just walked up with Jasper, Bella and Alice, his jaw locked tight. "You're hanging out with Emmett and his friends, coming here to the rez, drinking beer from our keg. I'm just trying to figure out your angle, Blondie. I mean, are your parties not good enough for you anymore? Thought you'd mix it up a bit, add some flavor to your life?"

Jasper moves in closer, saying, "Jake, man -" but I cut him off, holding up my hand.

"As far as Emmett and _our_ friends go, this isn't '_all of a sudden_.'" I totally air quote him and I know I'll be catching shit about it from Jasper later. "I mean, fine, it's pretty recent. But you're using blanket statements here and judging me based on what you think you know about me, which is complete and utter bullshit." I pull my hand from Emmett's, placing it on my hip. He moves so that he's behind me, close but not touching, and I know he knows I've got this. "So let me spell it out for you. I drive a BMW that I got for my sixteenth birthday. My jeans are absurdly expensive and I have way too many pairs. My passport has stamps from countries all over the world. I've had a very, very lucky life and I _know _that."

I take a breath and Jake starts to speak, but I stop him. "I'm not finished. All of that? Shouldn't really make any difference in whether you like me or not. That stuff isn't what defines who I am, just like I'm sure there's more to you than what I'm currently assuming, which is that you're a giant asshole." There's a ripple of muffled laughter. "Maybe if you _talked_ to me, or Edward for that matter, you'd realize that. We don't consider hanging out with them _slummin',_ as you call it. And also..." I pause, and turn toward Jasper, plucking the Solo cup from his hand. I turn to Emmett, tapping my fingers once, twice, against my bottom lip. He breaks out into a huge grin, shaking his head slightly. I drain the final gulp of beer slowly, wiping delicately at my mouth before holding the cup out to Jake. "_Also,_if you're going to get shitty beer, at least have the decency to buy Pabst."

I'm cognizant of the fact that Jake's not the only person who should be on the receiving end of this little tirade. But he's the one who's here; he's the one who lit the fire and incurred my drunken wrath.

I didn't even know I had it in me until I let it out, but god, it feels _good_.

Jake blinks at me, the rest of his face frozen in shock. The party's still going on, but more subdued, distracted. I can feel everyone's attention on us.

Jasper comments in a hushed whisper, "Shit just got real, son."

It has. I don't explode often; raised voices really aren't tolerated in the Hale household. I've had years of experience pushing anger away, letting it fizzle with a few deep breaths, or mildly bitchy comments if I'm with Jess and Lauren. But there's no way I could have held this in. Because Jake isn't the only one I want to say those things to. He's just easier because I don't know him, or maybe because he doesn't really know me.

But Jess and Lauren _do_, or they at least know the parts that I let them see. For better or worse, they've been my best friends nearly all my life. It's so much harder to stand up to people you've invested so much time with, knowing that they might decide they don't like the ways you've changed.

Still, I made a promise to Emmett. To _myself_. I know I'll need to have this conversation with Jess and Lauren soon. I just hope it's not quite so dramatic. And I could definitely do without the Beast.

"Well, damn," Jake finally says with a small laugh, taking the cup from my hand. He turns to Emmett, raising it as if to toast him. "Your girl's got a mouth on her."

"Nah, she's just calling you on your shit, Black." Emmett slings his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to his side, kissing my temple as if proving a point. "You know I run with good people."

"How do you explain Cullen then?" Jake snorts and then lets out a little yelp when Alice flicks his ear. I didn't realize she was capable of _reaching _his ear.

"Get over it, Jake. Edward's here to stay." Her eyes flicker from Emmett, whom she smiles softly at, and then settle on me. Jasper sidles up to her, wrapping his arm around her. "And so is Rose."

Emmett's fingers tighten around me with her words.

Jake holds up his hands and starts to back away. "All right, whatever. Paul and Seth are going to jam in a few and the keg's still full, so help yourself." He looks over at me with a little smirk and then turns on his heel, calling out, "Maybe next time we'll get the PBR."

Okay, so it's not an apology, but it's the best I'll get out of him. And really, it's not about him. It's about me, about how I stood my ground and said what I meant and felt. I recognize the feeling, the sense of empowerment; I felt the same thing when I told Roy it was over, when I saw my pictures in the paper.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't realize Emmett and I are alone until he's right in front of me, smiling. "See, you _know_, Rosalie. It's right there. That was worth it, right? Handing Black his ass? You were right about everything and he backed off. _You _did that."

I laugh and nod, my heart still racing. Scary or not, I know I have it in me to say what I really feel, to say what I really _want_. Sometimes I just need the catalyst to bring it to the surface. In this case, it was my anger. When I approach my friends, my family, I want it to be because of my strength.

Emmett takes my face in his hands and looks down at me for a long moment, then presses his lips against mine in a sweet kiss. I step back, a little off-kilter from the adrenaline racing through me, and from the Beast. I think for a second I might fall backward, but he takes me around the waist. He's always there, supporting me in case I need it. The contact takes me by surprise, as does the intensity of his kiss. So I do the only thing I can or want to do: I hold on and lose myself.

But I think I'm starting to find myself, too.

* * *

><p>Baby steps, right? Still with us? What'd you think of her little tirade?<p>

Our friends are all above and beyond. Thank you to Jan for always being our rock. Val and JD, we love you bunnies and will always giggle about autocorrect changes thanks to Gunther. ;)

You reader-friends have been absolutely incredible. Your reviews are always insightful and we are mush when we read them. Iris, happy birthday!

Until Thursday - xoxoxo


	12. Chapter 12 Ain't No Reason

Chapter 12 - Ain't No Reason

"Sweetie?"

"Yes, Mom?"

My hand freezes on the front door knob, and I slowly pull it away. I thought I could get out of the house without seeing her, especially after last night's surprise meeting of the minds on the front steps. And also because I happened to sneak into the house a half hour after my midnight curfew. My mom had been asleep on the couch in the living room, a book resting in her lap, and I'd tiptoed past her as quietly as I could.

From the tone of her voice, though, it hadn't been quietly enough. I'd obviously tripped her Mom Radar as soon as I crossed the threshold, even if she didn't call me out. I have a feeling I'm about to be interrogated.

Obviously, sneaking out of the house now is working about as well as sneaking _in _the house last night did.

I turn, waiting for her to appear with Eric. Her heels mute as she walks over the Oriental rug in the dining room, before they're at full volume on the foyer floor.

"Where are you off to?" She smiles when she sees a pair of heels dangling from my fingers, her eyes lighting with recognition. "Ah, dress shopping with the girls. You're wearing your strapless, right?"

I roll my eyes, but I'm actually grateful we're discussing my bra instead of Emmett. "I know the deal by now, Mom." She sighs and tugs on my ponytail, her fingers dancing over the already sleek strands. I decide to throw her a bone. "Should I pay cash or credit?"

"You know we always say go with cash, if you have it on you. Come have a quick breakfast before you go; I'll grab my wallet." Her pants swish as she walks into the kitchen, expecting me to follow.

I'd planned to stop at the bank and just tap the ATM machine, but the Bank of Mom is even easier. "I'll take your cash, but I'm actually doing breakfast with Stan and Mallo over in Port Angeles before we shop, so you can keep the food," I say.

She leans down to put Eric on the floor and when she straightens, she runs a hand over her pants.

"You're too good to me," she says wryly, as pulls her wallet from her purse and thumbs through a stack of bills. Then she makes her way to my dad's drawer, opening the ceramic box that I made for him when I was ten, where he keeps his cash. "Daddy's playing tennis but I'm sure he won't mind donating to a good cause." She winks and places the money in my outstretched hand. "So, I spoke to Esme last night."

"Did you now? How's she doing?" I reply evenly, not wanting to give anything away or be the first to bring up Emmett.

She waves her hand in the air. "Fine, fine, she's doing fine. She did mention, however..."

_Oh lord, here it comes._

But again, what she says isn't what I expect. "...That you were over there last weekend, taking pictures for a website." Her voice raises at the end of her statement, making it sound more like a question. "She said she framed a picture of Edward and Bella you took that was...how did she put it? 'Absolutely stunning,' I believe her words were."

Pride bubbles up in my chest at the relayed compliment and I grin, although I try to keep it tempered. "Well, I'm glad she liked it." I go on to explain Alice's Etsy site and the pictures I took, not only for that but for the newspaper, too.

Mom's expression is guarded. She speaks cautiously, something that I'm not used to with her. "Rosalie, could I... when you get home, do you think I can see your pictures?"

My mind reels and again, I attempt to play it cool. "Um, yeah. Yes. You can." And because she seems to be receptive for the first time regarding this, I push it a step further. "You know, there's a photography class at the community college that I've been looking at. It's too late to do anything at my school and everything I know so far has been self taught, but maybe..."

"All right, we'll see." It doesn't sound like she's merely trying to placate me with her words this time. It's not a 'no.' It sounds like she's actually considering it, that she might be open to this idea. "Maybe after we get your progress report and see how you're doing."

Always with the stipulations. Maybe _I'll see _about that.

"I should really head over to meet up with the girls," I say, picking up my keys from the counter. Our conversation was relatively harmless, all things considered. Actually, this little chat seems like it could be working in my favor. I have a feeling after I show her the pictures, I might be able to work my magic. Hell, after last night, I know I've got the power of persuasion down. I kiss her cheek and even let Eric lick my hand before making my way toward the front of the house.

"Have fun, sweetheart." I'm almost out of the kitchen but her voice follows me. "Oh and Rosalie, when you're showing me those pictures later? You'll have to tell me all about that Emmett McCarty. He must be special for you to miss curfew."

I turn back to see her standing there, eyebrows raised and an innocent smile on her face.

_Well played, Mom. Well played._

**xoxo**_  
><em>

Lauren insists on driving to Port Angeles, ignoring the look Jess and I exchange. Her parents made the mistake of getting her an Audi A5, which is just way too compatible with her lead foot. I barely fit in the backseat, but it's the safest seat so I fight Jess for it, slipping in before she can get there. She grumbles her way into the passenger seat and then slides her hand over the headrest, flipping me off.

Jess and I spend the entire drive hanging on to the 'oh shit' handles while Lauren obliviously shouts over the music about finding me the perfect dress and how she can't believe I don't have one when Homecoming's a week away.

"Usually you're on top of this kind of thing," she says, lifting her chin to look in the rearview mirror. I can't see her eyes behind her huge, dark sunglasses, but I feel them on me. I can also hear the question in her voice.

"I guess it doesn't matter as much to me this year," I reply with a shrug.

"It should matter to you _most _this year, Posie." Jess turns in her seat, still hanging on to the handle above her. I shrug again and she nudges my knee with her knuckles, frowning. "Senior year? Queen? Any of these things ringing a bell here?"

"Are you bummed because you don't have someone to go with?" Lauren pipes up.

"What do you call Edward, Mallo?"

"You know what I mean." I do, but I stay quiet. She lets out an impatient sigh. "A boyfriend, Posie. Also known as what you had up until a few weeks ago? You know, that guy that you went to _every _dance with since freshman year?"

"Oh, _that _guy," I reply sarcastically. I can practically feel Lauren's eyes rolling and I lift my sunglasses to roll them back. "It's not like he was the life of the party at any of the dances we went to."

He was actually the antithesis of the life of the party. He was the guy who acted above it all, who smirked coolly while Mike and Tyler made complete idiots of themselves on the dance floor. He hated dancing, especially the slow kind, and was usually twitching with boredom an hour into the night. He just wanted to get the hell over to Mike's house for the after-party, for the alcohol and empty bedroom, if there was one.

I still remember Jess coming up to us at Prom last year, both of us sprawled out at our table, me with my shoes kicked off and him with his hand on my thigh. "Look at you guys!" she'd shouted over the thumping bass, drunk off the vodka Tyler had smuggled in in a flask. "Cool customers, my Posie and her Roy. Loosen up! You need to dance!"

She'd yanked on my arm, but Roy's hand had clamped down on my leg. "I don't dance," he said.

And so neither did I.

"Yeah, but this will be the first dance you guys don't go to together," Lauren says now, breaking me out of my thoughts. "It'll be kind of weird, don't you think?"

I look out the window, watching the scenery fly by. "It'll definitely be different."

We're quiet for a few minutes, Jess humming along to the radio while Lauren bops her head back and forth. And then Jess lowers the volume on the radio, turning to face me again. Her expression is hesitant as she plays with her seat belt buckle. She looks at Lauren and then at me. "So, Mike told me something about Roy and Vera."

I raise an eyebrow, but stay silent. _This again?_

"I wasn't going to say anything at all but... well, you know that's just not possible." Lauren snorts and Jess smacks her arm, then looks back at me. "Mike told me that they've been having a lot of trouble. Or Roy has with Vera. He's been avoiding her texts and stuff. He won't admit it to Mike, but Mike says he's totally over her."

"That's because he's not over _you_," Lauren says, darting a glance at me over her shoulder.

"Why don't you focus on driving there, Mallo? Seventeen is way too young to die."

"You know he's not over you, right?" she presses, though she faces forward again.

They both wait expectantly, like I'm supposed to have some sort of opinion about it. I don't feel anything, though, except mild irritation that we're wasting time talking about this.

"Okay, and?"

"I don't know, do you think you'll ever -"

I interrupt before Lauren can finish her sentence. "Never. Roy and I are done, Mallo, no matter what."

My mind drifts to Emmett, my present and hopefully future. Roy already feels so far in the past.

"God, I just _never _thought you two would break up," Lauren replies, shaking her head. The sunlight plays off the golden strands of her hair and I reach forward instinctively to touch it, remembering all the nights I used to braid it when we were little. "I mean, obviously you broke up for a reason but you seemed like the perfect couple, you know?"

I have to wonder what our relationship looked like from the outside. It must have been so different from how it felt on the inside. Now that I know what it can be like, now that I've felt the things I do for Emmett, the three years I spent with Roy seem like a dress rehearsal. We had all of the props right, but nothing to back it up. I guess we played our parts well. Or at least I did.

If Lauren and Jess knew what we were really like, I doubt they'd think it was anything close to perfect. They both have something much more substantial with Tyler and Mike, even if it was built on the same things Roy's and my relationship was. We had the same upbringing, the same friends and background. But that only takes you so far. At some point, there has to be more. And with Roy and me, it seemed to become less as time went on.

I know what more feels like now, and I would never want to go back. The time I've spent with Emmett these past few weeks have only highlighted that I made the right decision with Roy.

I look out the window again, remembering how good it felt to be with Emmett last night. We left the rez pretty quickly after my confrontation with Jake, went back to his house and lay in his bed in the darkness, touching and kissing and whispering, back in our own little world. I can still feel his hands on me, the way his mouth felt, how he tasted a little like beer, but mostly like the mint gum he tried to mask the alcohol with.

Nothing has ever felt this good, so right.

I let out a soft sigh. "Things aren't always what they seem, Mallo," I reply, and though I don't say it, I don't just mean Roy.

**xoxo**

As much as I'd like to just get the first dress I try on that looks decent on me, Lauren and Jess push me along, passing dresses through the curtain until we find The One. The way they're acting, you'd think I was getting reading for my wedding rather than Homecoming. The dress I wind up with is stunning, though, so I'm begrudgingly grateful for their persistence.

We make our way back home in the early afternoon. As soon as I walk into my house, my mom is there, waiting to see the dress and "dish," as she puts it.

An hour later, she whisks out of my room and I flop back on my bed, smiling at the ceiling. Fishing my phone from my pocket, I light up the screen, finally able to look at it for the first time in hours. I held off while I was with the girls so that I didn't give them any more ammo, although I did peek a few times while I was squirreled away in the dressing room. I even managed to send a quick text to Emmett before they brought in another dress.

And let's just say I knew better than to check my texts while talking to my mom.

Sure enough, there's a text from Emmett, checking in. My face is flushed with excitement. I've missed him. But more importantly, I have news.

He picks up on the third ring, sounding distracted. "Hold on a sec, Ro. I'm just paying for my gram's lottery tickets." I listen as he jokes with the cashier, his voice muffled by what I'm guessing is his hand over the phone. He returns to me after a few minutes. "You still there, babe?"

"I'm still here," I reply, twirling a piece of hair between my fingers before absently making it a pretend mustache above my top lip.

"Hi," he says softly, and I hear the door to the Jeep slam.

"Hi, you. Lottery tickets?"

"Yeah, you know. A dollar and a dream? Gram totally buys into it. So far, most she's won is a couple hundred here and there, but it doesn't stop her from trying. I guess she'd like some financial security for me... you know, for the future or whatever."

It strikes me that my parents have never played the lottery; I don't think they even know where to buy a lottery ticket. I listen as he starts his car and then clears his throat as the phone switches to the speaker. "So, how was shopping? You didn't get in trouble for last night, did you?"

Shifting, I lie on my stomach and look at the floral dress hanging on the door of my closet. "I found a dress that works and had fun with the girls. Overall a win."

"And did you get in trouble? For, you know..."

"Well, my mom definitely _knew _that I was out past curfew. But she was actually pretty cool about that. Although, if she knew what we were doing..." I trail off.

He fills in the blank. "She might not have been quite so cool."

I laugh. "Well, yeah. I guess no mom really wants to think about what her amazingly hot daughter was doing in the bed of -"

He cuts me off. "Ro, maybe we should stop talking about this? I'm driving here. Don't want to get into an accident."

"What, don't you want to talk about how hot I am? You seemed to want to talk about it last night." I sing-song my words, teasing him.

I did get quite the earful on the car ride home to Em's (while Edward and Bella did their very best to _not _listen from the front seat) about how sexy I was and (in great detail) how he wanted to touch me and where and with what. Not that I was complaining, although I'm sure Edward and Bella weren't thrilled to witness it. They muttered "earmuffs" to each other before turning up the radio.

So he lowered his voice and moved his mouth closer to my ear, whispering the words instead, hot and lingering. And then he put them into action as soon as we got to his room.

My cheeks go warm just thinking about it, about what we did and how much I wanted to be with him, and not just with mouths and hands. I wanted to be closer, to have him in every way, but we were both pretty drunk. Plus, Gram was sleeping in the next room and he breathed into my neck that he wanted to wait, even though his body said something else.

"That was the Beast talking," he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.

I snort and then cover my mouth at the very un-Rosalie-like noise. "Oh, is that what you're calling it now?"

He groans my name. "Seriously, I'm going to have to stop the car right now if you keep talking like that."

Like I'd protest.

"Anyway! When I got back from shopping, she spent an hour looking at some of my pictures and we talked about the possibility of taking a photography class at Peninsula College." I stop, making a dramatic pause.

"And? Don't leave me hanging here, Hale," he demands.

"_And _it sounds like it really might happen. Esme was talking to her last night and telling her about the Etsy shoot, so I showed her those and the paper from last week. She's still back and forth, but I'm pretty sure I'm golden, as long as my grades stay where they're at."

"Good stuff, Ro," he says, his voice infused with warmth.

"Seriously. And, while she was looking at the Etsy pictures, she came across the ones of us."

"Oh yeah, and how'd that go?" He's trying so hard to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

"She was very taken with you last night, actually. Talking to Es only clinched it. I think you're in."

Of course, that's not all she said. No, she went on and on about how polite he was, getting out of the car and introducing himself. And how she heard him compliment me.

Then, of course, she asked why I was going to Homecoming with Edward instead of Emmett. Rather than rehashing all the details, I shrugged and said it was too late to go with Em. I got a look at that and I think she knew something else was going on, but she didn't say anything. Mostly, she just mentioned how I glowed when I talked about him. She also kept pointing at the pictures, saying, "You're happy."

I really am.

"Yep, I'm totally down with the moms." Emmett's fake-modest sigh crackles down the line. "I've got that special something."

"You're special, all right."

God, he _really _is.

He's quiet for a second and there's a rustle, then the gentle click of his blinker. "So, call you later? I've got to take care of a couple things right now."

"Okay," I say reluctantly, drawing out the word. "I guess I should get started on my Calc homework."

His soft chuckle echoes in my ear. "You sure do know how to have a good time, Hale."

"I did last night," I shoot back. I love that we can talk about it, tease one another after the fact.

"Yeah, you did," he says in that low voice that makes me shiver.

We say our goodbyes and then I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, my phone resting on my stomach. I wonder what's going to happen at school tomorrow, if we'll get to see each other. I wish I could've gotten in one more kiss last night, something to hold me over until next time. I know he'll be busy with practice this week and Jess and Lauren will be completely overbearing about all things Homecoming, so the chances of getting any kind of quality time are slim.

It's also spirit week, and while we never participate for any of the dress-up days except for Friday's school colors day, they still get wrapped up in it. I remember when I did, too. The first year was so exciting; there was so much to take in. All of the festivities felt huge, important, so _new, _and Jess, Lauren and I ate it up. Of course, over the past four years, the shine has worn off of our high school experience. I guess that's how it works, though. Eventually the rose-colored glasses have to come off.

The sound of the doorbell echoes up the stairs. I prop myself up on my elbows, frowning toward the doorway.

When I hear a deep, smooth voice mixing with my mom's higher, lilting one, I'm off the bed before it even sinks in that the voice belongs to Emmett. I get to the top of the stairs as he's climbing the first few, smiling over his shoulder at my mom, who's standing in the foyer with Eric at her feet. He's staring at Emmett, his tail wagging maniacally, and my mom is wearing a smile that almost matches Emmett's in width.

No one can resist the dimples. Least of all the Hale women, apparently.

"Emmett's here, sweetie," she says unnecessarily.

"Yeah, I see that." I raise my eyebrows at him as he takes the rest of the stairs two at a time. He's wearing his usual hoodie and jeans, but no hat. His hair curls around his ears and his smile turns sweet and familiar when he looks at me, spreading warmth across my chest.

I hold out my hand and he takes it, weaving his fingers through mine. His skin is cold from outside, but his touch is hot.

"Keep the door open," my mom calls.

"Thanks, Mom," I grumble back, gently yanking Emmett toward my room. I glare playfully at him when he chuckles behind me.

As soon as we're past the threshold, I nudge the door almost all the way closed with my foot, and then turn on my heel, coming face-to-chest with Emmett. He places a light hand on my hip and I lean into him, resting my cheek right over his heart, which beats strong and steady.

I have a new fascination with his hands; they're big and warm and perfectly fit the curves of my body. Right now they're moving up and down my sides, making me tingly, dizzy.

"What are you doing here?" I murmur, tilting my head back so he can place a kiss on my mouth. His lips are soft and smiling.

"I told you I had a couple things to take care of."

"Like what?"

"Like seeing you," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. His eyes dart downward and he kisses me again, lingering this time. "And kissing you."

"In that case, I have a couple things I have to do, too," I reply. His laugh is a low rumble in his chest, but he sighs when my mouth coerces his open. I press against him, letting all of my weight rest against his body. He holds me at the waist, letting his other hand drift to the back of my neck.

"Your mom's downstairs," he whispers when we pause for breath. His muscles are tense underneath my hands and I can't tell if it's from holding himself back or from wanting this as much as I do.

"So?"

"_So_, I'm not trying to go back downstairs with a boner. I just stopped by to say hi real quick because I know this week is going to be..." He pauses, smiling wryly. "Crazy. I need to get home to Gram in a few."

"Okay," I say, kissing the cupid's bow of his top lip. "So, hi."

"Hi," he replies with an indulgent smile before gently pushing at my hips and backing away. Letting out a long breath, he wanders away before stopping short in front of my closet. "Hey, is this your dress?"

I nod and he looks at me over his shoulder, his eyes moving over me from head to toe like he's imagining me in it. He smiles, this quiet one that makes me feel sad and hopeful at the same time. "You're going to look beautiful," he says.

I swallow, wave my hand to bring him back, and he does. His arms are open before he gets to me. I melt into him.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be." I feel him shrug. "But listen, this is your life, not theirs, you know? If they're your real friends, they'll be happy for you. If not…"

He doesn't finish the thought, but he doesn't have to. _If not, then they're not really your friends. _But they _have _been, even though they're not perfect. I'm not either. None of us are.

But when he kisses me, it is and I forget about everything else, just for now.

**xoxo**

Everyone is all atwitter about Homecoming at school the entire week before. It's all anyone can talk about, Jess and Lauren most of all.

_After _Homecoming is all I can think about. I'm already rehearsing how I'll tell Jess and Lauren about Emmett, what exactly I'll say. I don't know how I'll be able to spin the fact that we've been hanging out for weeks and I've failed to mention it despite having plenty of opportunities to do so. I know they're going to be pissed about that, Lauren especially. She's the dramatic one of the three of us, the one who'll blow up a situation if it gives her the chance to get bitchy.

But even though there's still a part of me that's nervous for what will probably be a really uncomfortable conversation, I do feel stronger. Standing up to Jake at the rez and showing my mom my pictures and talking about Emmett, showing her these things that really matter, makes me feel like a truer version of myself. I feel like I'm peeling back the false layers I've been hiding under, showing my real skin.

Or at least some of it. To some people. But it's something.

As predicted, the week is crazy, but at least it's going fast. Wednesday's spirit week theme is Blast from the Past, so I wear a flapper headband, doing my part to represent the 1920s. Lauren is decked out in a sexy fringe dress with a feathered boa draped around her neck; she's actually been surprisingly more into spirit week than I expected her to be. But she points out that she should be, since she's the captain of the cheerleading squad.

"Plus, maybe it will get me some extra votes for Homecoming. Not that I expect to win, since you have it in the bag and we all know I'm the 'resident bitch' here." She says it with a note of regret, perhaps wishing she weren't. I wonder if we all aren't beginning to search for that something greater, something _more._"But you know, if you aren't able to perform your Queenly duties -"

"What the hell are 'Queenly duties'? This isn't Miss America. And wait a second, what do you - why wouldn't I be able to perform my - " I'm sputtering, all indignant. Lauren smiles at my reaction. "Anyway, I don't know why you think I've got this. Really. It's not like I'm any better. I'm pretty sure that I've got the same sort of reputation." I say this to comfort her, but also pointing out the obvious. People have called me a bitch when they thought I couldn't hear them, for god's sake.

"The difference, Posie, is that you're just quiet with people you don't know. You're not _actually _a bitch, just misunderstood. I think more and more people are realizing that." She slings her arm around my shoulder as we walk toward to English. Jess is missing from our trio, off somewhere doing something with Mike. We try not to ask questions.

Well, that's a lie. We ask questions and we're pretty annoying about it. She just chooses to ignore us.

Lauren continues on. "Whereas I... well, I've not always been the nicest. And some of it was very intentional on my part."

I raise an eyebrow, but say nothing, waiting for her to 'fess up.

"Okay, fine. _Most _of it was very intentional on my part." She's quiet for a moment, which is rare for her. "But it's time for a change! To quote _The Lion King,_ 'You got to put your past behind you.' I think I'm going to make my New Year's resolution to try being nice."

"If only people knew that the resident bitch was watching _The Lion King_," I remark dryly. "And might I remind you that it's October. Are you going to hold off until January?"

"Semantics, Posie." She waves her hand in the air. "I can totally do this now."

Edward materializes by Lauren's side, slinging his arm over her shoulder so that we're three across. "Ro, Mallo."

"Edward! Great to see you, buddy. I was just saying the other day how I miss hanging out with you," Lauren says with a smile.

_Well, that's certainly an interesting spin on what she was saying. _

She gives me a look that says _see how nice I am? _I give her a tight-lipped smile and a thumbs up. Meanwhile, Edward is looking at us with exaggerated alarm.

"Mallo, you feeling okay? Sick? Under the weather?"

I chime in. "Oh, she's fine. She's trying out a concept that's new to her. It's called _niceness._"

"Niceness," Edward says it slowly, like he's trying it out for the first time. "Hmm, you know, I think that this concept has been around for quite some time."

Lauren is actually a good sport about our teasing, so I guess her resolution is already working. "You're my first test subject, Edward. Don't worry, it won't be like the time I tackled you on the playground so I could plant one on you."

Edward had been Lauren's first crush, much to his chagrin. He was still in the 'girls have cooties' stage when she quite literally pounced on him, sitting on his chest and making a spectacle of them both when she kissed him. It was all our little seven-year-old selves could talk about for days. Of course, Edward had been my first _real _kiss too, but neither of us were going to mention that fact.

"So, are you excited for the dance?" Lauren asks. "Think you'll join us at Mike's afterward?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away from the dance but..." He and I exchange a look behind Lauren's head. "We'll see what's going on with Mike's. Not sure yet. Actually, Ro, I was wondering if you could pick up the tickets after school. I've got to track down Clapp about a project."

Lauren answers for me. "That's not a problem, Jess and I are grabbing our tickets then, too."

"Guess that's settled," I say as we near the classroom.

"And hey, I really _am_ glad that you're coming to the dance with Rosalie. It will be cool to hang out together again, you know?" She actually sounds sincere.

"You know, we can hang out together other times," Edward mentions, a bit flippant. It's not like the group ever really welcomed Bella with open arms, but maybe it doesn't have to be that way. Actually, there's no _maybe _about it. It wouldn't take much.

She doesn't address that, just continues chatting. When we reach our classroom, the three of us enter together, though Lauren has to drop her arm from my shoulder so we can fit through the doorway. Jess is already there, her head resting on the desk, but she perks up when we walk in. Her eyes widen surprise at the sight of Edward's arm around Lauren, but then she smiles and gets up to join us.

The four of us stand around, talking idly before class begins. The conversation is nothing special but the act alone gives me hope. It makes me think that maybe, just _maybe, _all my worrying is for nothing.

Of course, I backpedal just a moment after that thought. The door swings open again and Bella and Emmett walk in. Her head is down and she's doodling in the purple Moleskine I gave her. Emmett has his hands on her shoulders, steering her so she doesn't bump into anyone. I'm unreasonably jealous, wishing that he were touching me. Our eyes meet and he mouths "dirty little secrets" while his eyes flick from the notebook to Edward and then back to me. My hand creeps to my mouth, where I simultaneously hide my smile and tap my bottom lip.

They stop right in front of us. Edward's arm slides off Lauren's shoulders as he moves to Bella's side. She murmurs hello quietly and Emmett does the same, though it feels like it's directed at me. I expect Lauren and Jess to say hello, or something, but instead they give their little Mona Lisa smiles. Then they leave me standing there as they move back to our seats.

I guess niceness only goes so far. And I guess I better get back to rehearsing.

Edward raises his eyebrows as he slings an arm around Bella's shoulders, pulling her close. They make their way back to the back of the room, Emmett trailing behind them.

"Sorry," I mouth to him. I can hear Jess and Lauren talking in low voices behind me. I wish I could pick up my books and follow Emmett instead.

His gaze darts past me and then our eyes meet again. "Surprised?" he murmurs as he brushes past, his fingers resting on my hip for a split second.

I wish I could say that I am. I wish that Lauren's niceness extended beyond the people she knows and likes. I wish I'd been honest from the start; that I'd told them even before I broke up with Roy that I was changing, that I _wanted _to change. And most of all, I wish I knew for sure they'd accept me no matter what.

But I don't know that. I'm not surprised by Lauren and Jess' attitude, because well, that's who they are. That's who they've always been.

Notes are passed as usual, but I concentrate on Berty's lesson. I don't even try to hide my annoyance with them, which they either don't notice or choose to ignore. Knowing them, it's the latter.

The rest of the day flies. By the time I catch up with Jess and Lauren at my locker after the last bell, my temper has cooled a bit. I have to remind myself yet again that even though their attitude sucks, they don't know what Emmett means to me. They don't know to try.

Yet.

"Ticket time?" Jess asks.

"Let's do it," Lauren answers for me. She claps her hands, all no-nonsense. "I'm getting my roots done in an hour."

My eyes automatically drift over to Emmett's locker. He's not there. The practical part of me knows that we'll talk later tonight and I shouldn't be disappointed, but my chest tightens with it anyway. This week, these little glimpses are probably all I'm going to have. I'm feeling greedy to see him as much as possible.

While we make our way to the ticket table set up outside the main office, Jess and Lauren talk about the timeline for Saturday. I can - and do - recite in my mind exactly what the festivities will be, because this is how it always goes: after I get ready, I'll head over to Lauren's house with my parents for pictures with her and Jess. The boys will arrive soon thereafter; then there will be _more _pictures and general parental embarrassment that includes going on and on (and on) about how great we all look.

But when they start talking about post-dance festivities, their voices raise in excitement. I slide into the end of the ticket line, listening to them go on about how, as tradition dictates, we'll stop at Forks Coffee Shop for milkshakes. Lauren loves this part the most, I think, because the other students there stare at us while the older patrons exclaim over how pretty we look and how handsome the boys are in their suits. Then it'll be off to Mike's house for drinking and dancing and more drinking.

I can tell the sophomore girls in front of us are listening in. God, they look so young. I catch the wistful glance they exchange. They want to go so badly, but all I can think about is how I'm going to ditch the dance early, figuring out how I can be with Emmett instead of at Mike's. It's going to be nearly impossible, seeing as how I've always been there. Then again, I've always been with Roy.

Things change, though, and so have I.

Something brushes against my arm; when I turn to my right, I'm staring up into Roy's black-brown eyes. They jar me more now than they ever did before, maybe because I'm so used to clear blue, to little smile lines at the corners.

Roy's smiling, too, but it's just a small upturn of his mouth. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"Uh, hey, Roy," Jess says, looking quickly at me. Lauren throws him a thin smile, playing with the end of her ponytail.

"Hey, Jess, Lauren," he replies. He turns, taking another step toward me. Too close. I step back instinctively and his eyes narrow slightly. "Pose."

My spine tightens at the nickname. There's something about the way he says it that makes me feel like I'm that girl again, like I'm the Rosalie he thinks he knows.

"What's up? Are you picking your tickets up, too?" I can tell Jess is trying to diffuse the obvious tension in the air. Lauren's eyes dart between Roy and me like she's watching a tennis match.

"Not yet. Things are kind of...whatever." Roy shrugs, looking sideways at me. "Heard you're going with Cullen?"

I nod shortly. The sophomore girls in front of us get their tickets and Jess and Lauren hurry to the front, extricating themselves from what is turning into a really awkward situation.

"This feels really fucking weird, Rosalie," he says, his voice lowering. I wish he'd called me Pose again or Posie, or something other than my real name, because it sounds so strange coming from his mouth. So not right. I press my hand against the back pocket of my jeans, where my phone is, and stay silent. He sighs sharply. "Say something."

"Like what? We broke up, Roy. You're going to Homecoming with Vera. I'm going with Edward. I know it's different, but..." I stop and shrug. I don't want to be mean, but Jesus, I don't know how else to explain that this is over.

"It's just..." he trails off, turning so that he's facing me fully. He looms over me, shielding us from everyone else. "We're supposed to be doing all of this shit together."

I stare at him, shocked. Roy isn't the type to just come out and say things like that. He's never been comfortable with sharing emotions, particularly when they show his vulnerability. For some reason, it makes me sad that he's showing it to me now, when it's too late.

"No," I reply quietly. "We're not. Not anymore."

His jaw flexes, his eyes going to some point past my shoulder. "I don't believe that."

"Posie, it's your turn." Lauren peeks around Roy's shoulder, her eyes wide. I wonder how much she heard. I hope, more for Roy's sake than mine, that it stayed just between us. "Ready?"

_More than_ _ready._

"I have to go," I say, not meeting his eyes as I step to the side to get around him.

"Fine, later," he mumbles, and stalks off.

Lauren and Jess watch him walk away, eyebrows raised, but don't say anything while I get the tickets. They stay quiet as we push through the front doors and get outside. The air is damp with the promise of rain. It always rains for Homecoming, and it looks like this year won't be any different.

Lauren is the first one to break the silence. She weaves her arm through Jess's and then mine. With a bright smile, she says, "Well, Saturday's going to be interesting, isn't it?"

Jess laughs, but I just shake my head and reply sarcastically, "I can't wait."

* * *

><p>Can <em>you <em>wait? Homecoming is looming, friends. Many things are looming, in fact! Lots of stuff coming up (they say, as they rub their hands in evil delight).

Jan, Val and JD keep us sane(ish), and we love them. And as always, thank you all for being truly the loveliest bunch of readers anyone has ever had, ever. We're not exaggerating! You've made this experience just ridiculously fun for us and we like you a whole, whole lot.

Drop us a line and say hello! We're really chatty and would love to hear from you. Plus, you get a teaser out of the deal. Not a bad trade.

Rebecca Black never confirmed it, but we're pretty sure Monday comes after Sunday, so we'll see you then! Have a wonderful weekend, friends.


	13. Chapter 13 I Wanna Be Sedated

Chapter 13 - I Wanna Be Sedated 

I try not to squint under the bright stadium lights as I, along with the rest of the "chosen ones" and our dates, dutifully file behind the senior class banner. The team is usually in the locker room during halftime but since it's the Homecoming game, they're all lined up at the perimeter of the field. It's uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on me. It's more attention than I'd ever want. And for what? For just being me? Wearing some crown? I just hope this goes quickly so I can be back in the stands, blending in with the sea of red and white.

I can't see Emmett, can't find him among the line of JV and varsity football players, but I know he's there. I can feel his eyes on me as I hold on to Edward's arm. Shivering in the October night air, Edward leans toward me.

"You okay?"

I nod, but he shrugs out of his varsity jacket anyway, putting it around my shoulders.

And then I find Emmett. Of course, he's known where I've been from the start.

Edward's jacket is all wrong, but it will do for now. It has to. Soon enough I'll be free from all of this.

Edward ducks his head toward me again, his mouth near my ear. "This is so stupid. Do you realize how dumb this is? He should be here with you, not me."

I plaster a fake smile on my face and wave my hand at the crowd, all the while muttering under my breath, "I've got a plan, okay? Besides, Bella's not here and then you'd be alone. I couldn't do that to you, old buddy."

"How selfless," he says dryly, waving his hand over his head at our adoring public as well.

"What can I say? I'm a giver."

Jessica's voice comes over the loud speaker, echoing around the field. "And now, I'd like to present you with the seniors' Homecoming banner! This year's banner was made by Mr. B's 4th period class, designed by Alice Brandon." Alice steps forward and gives a short wave before pulling open the banner, revealing a secret panel that makes it double in size.

"Give it up for the seniors!" Jess crows. She was born for this; she's got her announcer voice going and is getting the crowd riled.

I look around, realizing how many of my classmates are completely in their element at this very moment. Jasper's in his football uniform but he's right there, holding one of the banner corners and beaming down at Alice, who is pressed snugly into his side. I look down the line and see that Lauren's standing proudly next to Tyler, her hands on her hips as she holds her pompoms. Even Edward is grinning ruefully at the crowd.

Roy's a head taller than Vera and catches my eye as I scan the line. The corners of his lips are just slightly turned down. His eyes don't sparkle in the stadium lights.

Maybe he's not in his element either.

I look back to where Emmett is standing and tap my fingers on my lips. He smiles, just enough, before jerking his chin toward the stands as the noise from the banner announcement dies down.

Jess has begun announcing the members of the Homecoming court one by one, referring to us as princes and princesses.

Yeah. I know.

My heart thuds heavily in my chest, not because I want to win or lose, but because I just want this to be over. My name's called and I'm honestly a little surprised Jess doesn't call me _Posie_, or Lauren _Mallo_. In this moment, it's who we are, just like she's Stan.

I step forward, forcing the smile on my lips and waving my hand over my head before falling back into place. Surprisingly, the crowd gets louder, the bass drum from the marching band beating in time with my heart when my name is called. I scan the crowd and see Angela standing next to her boyfriend, the percussion section leader, Ben Cheney.

"And the 2010 Homecoming King and Queen are..."

There's an extended dramatic pause and then a shriek from the booth, one that rings clearly through the air, even though Jess (thankfully) doesn't have the microphone on at the moment. She clears her throat, muttering, "Sorry about that, folks."

Her announcer voice is back with her next words. "Our King is, appropriately enough, Royce King."

_Shit._

I sort of expect that people still envision us together, even though they know we aren't anymore. We're a packaged deal. Apparently three years is hard to erase in people's minds. Hell, even in Roy's mind, even though I was crystal clear about the break up.

Still...maybe it won't be me.

_Please don't say my name. Pleasedon'tsaymyname. _I've got the chant going. All the other girls in the line are probably saying the exact opposite.

But then her voice rises with excitement. "And our Queen is Rosalie Hale!" The microphone thunks as she drops it and runs out of the booth.

To be honest, I don't think I've seen Jessica Stanley run in her life. But she's flying down those bleachers like a bat out of hell. I let out a shocked giggle. It's all I can focus on at the moment. I feel like I'm suspended in time, everything moving around me at a normal speed, while I move in slow motion.

The sophomore class president makes her way over to me and pins the crown on my head haphazardly. I'm frozen, so I don't think to crouch down to help her. I feel a tug on Edward's jacket and it slides off my shoulders so the sash can take its place. Flowers are thrust into my arms and I take them, cradling them in my arms. I'm just going through the motions, something I haven't done in a few weeks. It feels foreign, more so than before because I'm out of practice. Roy is at my side in an instant, smiling broadly, as if appearing out of thin air. His arm brushes mine and I smell his cologne, familiar, a little too strong. I want to grab onto Edward's sleeve to keep him there, like some sort of wall between me and Roy, but he falls back.

Emmett is even further back, standing on the sidelines. Shit, I hate this. This is exactly who I'm supposed to be. This is also exactly who I no longer _want _to be.

Stan comes running across the field toward me, grabbing Mallo along the way. They throw their arms around my neck, pressing kisses to my cheek.

I'm surrounded by people. I know that I'm supposed to be something other than numb. There are tears in my eyes, which I'm sure the girls think are tears of happiness. So I just keep smiling, reminding myself that soon enough, this too shall pass, and I'll finally be able to live my own truth.

_Twenty-four hours_, I tell myself, feeling the combs of the crown digging into my scalp. It makes me think of that Ramones song - _twenty twenty twenty-four hours to go, I wanna be sedated. _It's so fitting to this situation that I start to laugh. I press my cheek against Lauren's hair, my shoulders shaking. She won't let go of me, but that's okay because I can hide a little this way.

My eyes slide up to the stands. I see my parents near the front, sitting next to Esme and Carlisle. The smile on my mom's face is huge, so proud. My dad catches my eye and waves, and then pulls out his phone. Now that they've caught this moment in my history, I'm sure they'll go back home so my mom can hang out with Eric and my dad can hang out in his study with his work and blueprints. They know I'll be otherwise occupied all night, especially after my big win.

Jess yanks on my wrist, pulling me out of Lauren's suffocating embrace and shakes me a little bit. I'm still laughing and tearful, kind of manic. She must mistake it for shock and excitement, because she lets out a little squeal, yelling "I knew you'd win!" She hugs me again, rocking me back and forth.

They can be excited for me, I guess.

I get swept up in the crowd as we all drift off the field so the band can entertain the crowd for the rest of halftime. I look over my shoulder one last time, trying to get another look at Emmett to see what he's doing, what he might be thinking, but find myself looking up at Roy instead.

"Congrats, Posie," he says. His crown is perfectly straight on top of his head. Somehow it looks even more ridiculous that way.

"You, too," I murmur before whipping back around and letting Lauren and Jess drag me back toward the stands, up to where my parents are waiting. Edward's already there with Carlisle and Esme.

The glimmer of triumph I saw in Roy's eyes unsettles me. Then I remember the age-old Homecoming tradition: the King and Queen's dance.

Shit. I'm going to have to dance with Roy tomorrow night. _Shit_, and Emmett's going watch it happen. As if the night could get _any_more horrible and awkward. Maybe I can slip the DJ a hundred so he won't play anything remotely romantic.

People call out their congratulations, and I nod and try to smile, but I doubt I fake it well. Now that the numbness is wearing off, I feel a dull ache in my temples. I'm not sure if it's from the crown or from what it represents.

_Hurry hurry hurry, before I go insane_, I sing silently, and the smile is back. I think it's too late for the insane part, but at least I can fake it better this way.

My mom is waiting with open arms when I get to her. She hugs me tightly, whispering, "You looked gorgeous out there." I wonder if she's remembering her moment of glory on this very field years ago. Homecoming Queens run in the family now.

My dad kisses my temple, enveloping me in a hug. He smells like aftershave and cigars. He and Carlisle probably indulged before the game. "Good girl. We're so proud of you."

"Thanks," I say, because it probably wouldn't be polite to ask, "why?"

As expected, they make their exit when the third quarter starts, with Esme and Carlisle close behind. Jess and Lauren are next to me, chattering away, so I turn to Edward while they're distracted.

"Are you guys hanging out at your house later?" I'm hoping I can sneak away from Mike's, at least see Emmett for a few minutes so I can step out of this role I've had to play all night.

Edward grimaces, shaking his head. "Charlotte's having a party at her house. A lot of the football players are going and Em said he'd go, so we're all going to drop by." My heart constricts at his words. I don't want Emmett at Charlotte's house any more than I want myself at Mike's. As if reading my mind, he continues, "You'll be at Newton's?"

I nod, adjusting my crown. It's really starting to hurt now. "Can you tell him to text me? Maybe we can..." I trail off when Jess gets too close, raising my eyebrows at Edward so he knows what I mean.

"I'm sure you can..." he trails off, too, deliberately, and laughs as I smack his arm. My sigh must sound as sad as I feel, because he nudges me with his elbow. "If you're worried about Char or any of those girls, don't, okay? He'll be thinking about you the whole time, Ro."

"I'm not worried about that," I reply truthfully, although I hate the thought of them being around him when I won't. Or can't. "I just hate doing this."

"You don't _have _to do this," he reminds me.

I roll my eyes. Like I'm not already aware that I've made this far more complicated than it should have been. "I _won't _be doing this after Homecoming."

He nods, looking unconvinced.

"Get it done, boys!" Jess screams in my ear, then lets out a whoop just to make sure I'm good and deaf.

I can't help but take her message and internalize it. _Get it done, Rosalie. Get it done._

**xoxo**

The crown stays on my head, even after we get to Mike's house, and even though the combs hurt. The little fake jewels keep getting caught on other people's hair when they come over to congratulate me, leaning in because the music's loud and I can't hear them over the thumping bass.

I want to rip it off my head, toss it in the pool. Or maybe pass it off to one of the more wanting, grateful girls, the ones who keep casting lingering looks at it (Lauren included). But I'm supposed to want this, and it's easier to keep it on my head than to tell people why I'm taking it off. Because I know they'll ask.

Still, the longer I keep it on, the more I think I might not be able to get it off at the end of the night. It's digging in, deeper and deeper. It feels like it's defining who and what I am. It feels as fake as the sparkling gems glued to the stupid thing.

"It looks pretty real," Jess says at one point, squinting at me.

Lauren rolls her eyes, reaching up to adjust the crown on my head. One of the teeth in my comb stabs at my scalp and I wince. "Totally fake."

Jess shrugs and points at herself. "Totally drunk."

_Get it done_, I remind myself. It's my new mantra. It gets me through a Solo cup-full of beer, through Jess and Lauren parading me around Mike's backyard and singing every song they can think of that has the word "queen" in it, sometimes changing the lyrics completely. I tune out fully when they start belting out "Dancing Queen."

And Roy's somehow always lurking nearby with Vera huddled next to him, looking uncomfortable and unsure. He managed to ditch his crown somewhere along the way, and there's one tuft of hair that's sticking straight up. Every time I look at him, my eyes zero in on it. It makes him look young, boyish and weirdly vulnerable.

He tries to approach me once, but I shake my head and Jess and Lauren surround me again, their arms going around my waist.

I think about Emmett the whole time, wondering if he's having fun at Charlotte's party, if he's thinking about me, too. Finally around midnight, I decide I've had enough. It's stupid to be here when I just want to be with him.

As if he hears me, my phone vibrates with a text. _Leaving Char's now – it's lame. Still at Mike's?_

_Leaving. Pick me up at the corner of Valerie? _I type back with one hand.

_On my way_.

I feel instantly lighter and exhale quietly, stuffing my phone back into my back pocket.

"I'm out, girls," I say, handing Jess my beer and giving Lauren a quick peck on the cheek.

"Always disappearing these days," Lauren grouses, stealing my beer from Jess. Jess lets out an indignant squeak and then waves at Mike across the backyard, making a drinking motion with her hand.

I leave them to it, walk away from Mike's party, from his yard, away from all the people there. And finally, finally I pull the crown off my head and take a deep breath. My scalp tingles and my head aches a little, but I feel good for the first time tonight.

And when I see Emmett's Jeep idling at the corner, I feel better than good. I pick my pace up to a jog and fling open the door, hopping in. Music is wafting softly out of the speakers and it's warm, like he's been blasting the heat.

He smiles this really quiet smile and I lean forward as he does the same, until our faces are close, our noses and mouths almost touching.

"Hey."

"Hey," I whisper back, not wanting to disrupt the blissful quiet that surrounds us. My ears are still ringing from all of the voices and the music at Mike's party.

His gaze goes down to my crown in my lap and then bounces back up to my face, his grin widening. "Congratulations."

"For what? Do you say that to every girl who gets in your car?" I tease.

He laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and I reach up to trace them with my finger. "It's a pretty big deal."

I sigh when he brushes his lips across mine. "Can we just...not talk about anything related to Homecoming?"

I feel more than see him nod. We kiss again, and then one more time, longer, before he pulls back and then shifts into first gear.

I lean my head against the headrest and close my eyes, my hand over his on the gearshift. When we get to my house, he parks in the driveway and gets out, circling to my side to open the door for me. I can see the light on in the living room, which means my parents are still up and moving around.

So instead of going to the door, I pull him to the side of the house, yanking on his hand when he hesitates and throws a glance at the lit-up window.

"C'mere, it's fine," I whisper. "Just a few minutes."

The worry melts from his face, replaced with a wicked half-grin. His hands are heavy on my hips as he gently pushes me back against the siding. I can feel each ridge of the planks digging into my back. His front and mine press together and his knee nudges in between mine, resting there. We start out slow, soft nips and kisses, but soon our mouths are moving at a frenetic pace, making up for lost time, unable to get enough of each other. Lips, jaws, neck. We continue like this, fast and slow, forever and not long enough, until Emmett pulls back, breathless. His lips are puffy from being pressed against my skin, from my teeth.

"I'd say I'm sorry for that, but I'm not."

I exhale shakily. "Then don't say it, because I'm sure as hell not."

He leans his forehead against mine, and his eyes are heavy with a mix of emotions I can't quite figure out in the darkness. "Soon," he murmurs.

I don't have to ask him what that means, because I already know. Tomorrow, all of this will be over. That one word is a promise of everything to come after that. And so I repeat it back to him, promise it, too.

"Soon."

**xoxo**

Saturday morning brings some clarity; I've managed to sleep off the surreal feeling that followed me all night. I've found that to be my way, though. The morning after a long night brings perspective, a chance to reflect and realize how things that seemed like the end of the world... aren't.

As soon as I wake up, I look over and see my crown sitting on the dresser, perched on top of the pillow that Mom left for me with a note saying how I've far surpassed the expectations she and my dad had envisioned.

I spend the morning at my volunteering gig for the DAR, the whole time thinking about those kisses and that promise, about Emmett. Maybe tonight won't be so terrible after all. Maybe everything has been leading up to this moment and being Homecoming Queen is weirdly appropriate. It's almost like I'm coming home to myself.

I see Emmett's gram as I'm walking past the bingo room and she waves and winks. Her smile reminds me of Emmett's, and I feel a little pang in my chest. I can't wait to see him tonight.

God, I can't wait to see him in a _suit _tonight.

On the way to the parking lot, I pass by the ballroom, stopping when I see that it's been decked out with round tables, flowers, balloons and a dance floor. I ask Siobhan, one of the event coordinators, what's going on, and she looks at me like I'm crazy.

"The gala's tonight." I stare at her blankly. "You know, the fundraiser? For breast cancer?"

I try to pick through my memory, but nothing rings a bell. "Does my mom know about it?" I ask finally, which I know is a stupid question as soon as it's out of my mouth.

"Sweetie, your mom helped plan it," she replies, patting my shoulder and breezing away, picking up a vase of peonies as she goes.

I walk to my car, wondering if my mom forgot to tell me, or if she _did _tell me and I was too busy rushing out the door to listen. It seems like I've been doing that a lot lately.

After my volunteer gig, I stop by the salon to get the standard manicure/pedicure. With everything that's been going on, I've forgotten to make an appointment and I'm not sure they'll even be able to fit me in with all of the standing appointments. But somehow, my mom's usual girl is able to squeeze me in.

When I walk in the door, the house is quiet. The only one who greets me is Eric. He follows me up the stairs, directly on my heels, and proceeds to shadow me the rest of the afternoon. I almost step on him multiple times and he yaps at me like _I'm_ in _his_ way. I sit on my bed and take a moment to answer texts from Lauren and Jess, who are at the salon together. Eric stands next to me, placing his paw on my arm like he, too, has something to text. The final straw is when he attempts to follow me into the bathroom. That's where I draw the line, shutting the door in his face.

In my extra long shower, I let the water pour over my head like rain. I run over scenarios in my mind, dreaming of what Emmett will look like and how we'll look at each other. And then I think about Roy, what he'll say, what he might _do_. I know our dance will be one of the first of the evening. I'm nervous for how things will play out, especially since he seems hell-bent on trying to "win me back." I'm not a prize to be won. But at least it will be done and over and I can move on with my life.

Eric is waiting outside the door when I emerge, the steam pouring out behind me. Quickly, I flip the fan on and close the door so the smoke detector doesn't falsely trip, like it's known to do. Eric glares at me before picking up right where he left off. The low murmur of my parents' voices drift from behind their closed door, and I call out my hellos before shutting myself away in my own room.

This part of my routine I could do with my eyes closed. Plug in the curling iron and let it heat while blow-drying my hair. Lay out my dress, undergarments, shoes, blah blah blah. Some of the girls will probably be at the salon, getting their hair done along with their nails. In the past, I'd be right there next to them, because it was what we were supposed to do, and back then, it was what I wanted to do. Now, I'd rather do it myself. Primping is always a time for me to be alone, dreaming up scenarios and getting things in order.

I'm just finishing my hair when there's a knock at my door.

"Rosalie, sweetie, do you have my diamond bracelet in here? I think I loaned it to you around Prom time and never got it back." My mom floats into my room, already dressed in her own formal gown, her hair pinned tightly into a French twist.

"Which one? You have like, five of them, Mom."

She raises an eyebrow. "How do you not know which one you borrowed?"

"How do _you _not know which one I borrowed?" I shoot back, but I already know the answer. It's because she has like, _five _of them.

She gives me an expectant smile that's just frosty enough to let me know I'm toeing the line. I sigh quietly, padding over to my jewelry box. I pull out the drawer and dig around a bit until I see the bracelet twinkling up at me. It's delicate and dotted with equally delicate diamonds.

I turn around, holding it up. "Here it is."

She's standing in front of the mirror now, with my crown in her hands. She holds it over her head, letting it hover just above her hair, but places it back on its silly little pillow before holding out her wrist. I fasten the bracelet, tugging slightly to make sure the clasp has caught. Doing a graceful twirl, she holds her arms up and raises her eyebrows. "What do you think? Too small?"

"No, it's good. You look fantastic," I say, earnestly.

"Well, hurry up and get ready. We need to get to the Mallorys' a little early since all the adults are going to the gala. Let me know if you need help with anything," she says, gesturing to the crown.

She starts walking out of the room but turns in the doorway. "Oh, and I'm not sure what's happening after the gala just yet. It's supposed to go late. We might just stay at the hotel nearby because you know how Daddy is after just a few drinks." She raises an eyebrow. "You have plans for after the dance, right? Headed to the Newtons'?"

I answer vaguely. "Yeah, I have plans."

She thinks nothing of it. "Wonderful. Maybe you could just stay with Jessica or Lauren so you're not alone in the house by yourself."

"Mmm," I reply noncommittally. I'm pretty sure they'll be otherwise occupied with Mike and Tyler. And hopefully, _I'll _be otherwise occupied with Emmett. Maybe alone. The thought of that possibility makes my face go hot.

"I'll give you your privacy so you can get dressed, darling," she says, sweeping out the door. "I can't wait to see."

The door closes softly behind her and I turn the volume up on my iHome. Makeup's next because my dress doesn't have to go over my head. I try not to think too hard about what could happen later with Emmett, but notice that my hand shakes minutely when I apply my eyeliner.

Soon I find myself stepping into my dress, shimmying it up my body, before twisting to slide up the zipper and thread the hook through the eye. Tilting my chin, I look in the mirror. My hair is perfectly curled; all that it needs now is the jeweled crown resting on top of it.

I hesitate.

My phone lights up and I wander over, grateful for the distraction. I assume it's another one of the million texts I've been getting from Jess and Lauren.

It's Emmett. _You're beautiful. _

My lips pull into a smile as I type, _You can't even see me._

The response is immediate, the screen still lit up from before. _Don't have to. I know. See you later._

_I can't wait_, I respond. It's what I'm looking forward to most, seeing him.

I set my phone on my dresser and grab the crown, twirling it around in my hand before heading out of my room. As I make my way down the stairs, a smile lingers on my lips.

"Mom, can you help me with this?" I ask, wandering into the kitchen. She and my dad are there, standing at the island. She steps forward eagerly and I catch my dad's eye over her shoulder while she pins it into my hair. He grins with a wink. He's handsome regardless, with bright blue eyes and his blonde hair going gray at the temples, but he looks especially distinguished in his tux.

"My beautiful girls," he states when she finishes and drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I'm sure we look picture-perfect.

"Oh!" I extract myself from my mom's grip, hitching my thumb over my shoulder. "I need to grab my camera."

"Hurry, Rose, we've got to get going," my dad calls after me.

"I'll meet you at the car," I call back, taking the stairs as fast as my heels will carry me. I may not be overly excited about tonight's festivities, but I still want my camera with me to capture the moments that matter. Maybe I'll look back on them someday, years from now, and remember who I am in those shots - a girl who's learning how to stand on her own.

We take my mom's Jaguar and I settle back into the buttery leather seats, watching the scenery pass us by during the short drive to Lauren's house. I'm starting to feel the buzz of anticipation, that same feeling I've always gotten for special events like this. I can't help the little zip of nervous excitement that dances up my spine when we pull into the driveway. Jess and Lauren are outside, waving at Mike and Tyler, who've just pulled up in Mike's black BMW. I'm a little surprised to see that the boys are already here, considering we're usually alone for the first half hour.

But I guess that just shows that things are changing with them, or maybe with all of us, too. Maybe it's subconscious, but it's happening.

When they catch sight of me, Lauren starts dancing in place, her blonde curls bobbing around her shoulders. I see that Jess has decided to go strapless, despite Lauren's earlier warning. I wonder if that's why she's not bouncing around, too.

"There's our beautiful queen!" Lauren crows, arms spread wide, as I get out of the car. She's wearing a short, pale pink strapless dress that brings out the flush in her cheeks. She looks beautiful. Tyler must think so, too, because he can't keep his eyes (or hands) off her.

"All hail Queen Hale!" Jess adds for good measure, ruffling the full skirt of her purple dress. Hers is almost as short as Lauren's, which is saying something, and kind of unlike her. I'm sure it has something to do with the reaction she gets from Mike; his jaw seems to have unhinged itself permanently. I hear my dad ask my mom if they've been drinking and I roll my eyes. He should be used to their antics after knowing them for so long.

"Am I going to have to deal with these jokes all night long?" I ask when I get to them.

"Yes," Mike answers. "Yes, you will."

"Awesome," I mutter, but I can't help smiling. They're a little ridiculous and over-the-top with all of this, but this is how they've always been, and their excitement is infectious.

My parents slip past me, my mom putting a cool hand on my shoulder. "You kids look fantastic."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hale, you do, too," Lauren replies with a smile. Tyler's hand is creeping dangerously low on her back and she discreetly smacks it away, then full-out glares at him as my parents head inside.

We make our way inside, too, after Jess, Lauren and I exchange hugs. There are dark clouds dotting the horizon and the chill in the air is picking up. I'm wrapped up in a coat, but I can see the goosebumps on Jess and Lauren's arms.

Edward shows up with Esme and Carlisle a few minutes later. He acts appropriately date-like, telling me I look beautiful and greeting everyone. Mike and Tyler seem especially happy to see him, maybe because they rarely get to. He's doing his man of the people thing, talking and joking, but he takes his phone out every two minutes, texting Bella. I can feel my phone burning a hole through the clutch tucked under my arm and I wish I had the freedom to do the same. But who would I be texting? Everyone I want is here, as far as they know.

We take pictures on the stairs, in the yard, by the cars, in the street and anywhere else someone randomly comes up with ("Hey! Let's do one by that tree. Not _that _tree, the other tree."). We take pictures in every combination possible: parents and kids, girls, guys, dates, and so on and so forth until each and every single option of posed pictures are exhausted. I secretly take a picture of Edward texting, figuring I can email it to Bella later on to make her smile.

Finally, after all of the pictures, we all pile into separate cars and make our way to our next destinations for the evening. Originally we'd discussed renting a limo or party bus, but thankfully, the logistics of it didn't work out. It will make for an easier getaway later on. Our parents are off to the gala; we're headed to The Silverwater Cafe for dinner before the dance. It's a bit of a trek since there really aren't any fancy restaurants directly in the area, but since it's a special event, we don't mind the drive.

Once Edward and I are settled in the car, I send a quick text to Emmett. I let him know where we're going and that we'll probably get to the dance in a couple of hours. My thumb hovers over the "send" on my screen, and then think twice, adding, _I can't wait to see you_ _later. _

I toss my phone back into my purse and lean back, careful not to crush my hair against the headrest. I shift once and then twice, trying to get comfortable, but it's no use. The seat of the car is pulled up too much for my liking, or to my legs' liking, for that matter. I reach to the side and play with the buttons, wiggling in my seat. Edward gives me an amused, questioning glance.

"This seat has contoured itself to Bella's shape. I'm just trying to get it to accept me."

He shoots me a look and mutters, "By giving it a chair dance? Oh, if Em could see you now."

"Soon enough," I tease dryly. "I'll be shaking my ass all over the dance floor tonight."

"Shake ya ass, show me what you're working with?" He's mocking me, throwing my words from a few weeks ago back at me. I smile, thinking about that conversation in his driveway, about his surprise when I told him I'd just been at Emmett's house. It was the first time I'd known that this thing between Emmett and me was as special to him as it was to me.

_So fucking special_, I think now. My smile gets bigger.

"Christ, Cullen," I tease back. "Whitest boy version of that I've ever heard."

He laughs, and then turns up the radio. We settle into a comfortable silence.

Well, for a while.

The silence slides from comfortable to...weird. Neither of us is talking, but Edward keeps glancing at me out of the corner of his eye while he's driving. At first I figure I'll just wait, although I'm wondering what's going on, that he'll eventually say _something_. But the side glances continue and he's not saying anything, until finally I can't take it. "What, Edward? What? You're giving me a complex here."

He doesn't say anything for another moment. Now I'm really getting nervous. I start to say something else, but he cuts me off. "Relax, Ro. I'm just trying to figure out how to word this."

"Well, the fact that you're practicing in your head doesn't exactly inspire confidence, _Ed_."

He stops at a light and turns his head so he's fully facing me. "It's just..." He squints thoughtfully over my shoulder before fixing me with a pointed look. "Just enjoy this time with everyone while you can, that's all."

"Oh, like that doesn't sound ominous?" I roll my eyes and he rolls his mockingly. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, things are going to change soon, right?" The light turns and he has to look at the road again, so he misses my nod. He darts a glance at me, his expression darkening slightly. "I mean, you _are_ planning on telling them -"

"Yes." I interrupt him with the word and a decisive nod of my head. He sees it this time; one corner of his mouth pulls up. "It needs to happen. I _want _it to happen. I mean, it's not like I ever set out to hide Emmett from Jess and Lauren and everyone, but I'm sure that's how it looks." I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and he shrugs noncommittally. "And I know Jess and Lauren are going to see it that way, too, but I'm going to make it right. I'm not ashamed of who I am or Emmett is or what we are together, you know? I'm more secure with what we have than I am with almost anything else. I needthem to know, because otherwise they won't know a huge part of me."

I realize as soon as I say the words how true they are and how much more powerful that truth is now that I've shared it out loud. I also know that if anyone would understand, it's Edward.

His responding nod tells me he does, although it's slow, a little hesitant. And then he says, "That's great, Ro. It really is. But, things are going to change. And you can think that you'll be able to balance time between both groups and at first, you'll try. Just know - and I'm speaking from experience here - that it's not that easy. Some people might be resistant."

He's thinking about Bella. I can see by the distant glint in his eyes that he's remembering what it was like when he met her, how things changed for him. Change seems to be a dirty word to my group of friends. There's some unspoken rule that things just _don't _change. Ever. Or if they do, it's within the confines of the life that somehow got mapped out for us, or maybe _by _us. We hang out with certain people (read: each other). We wear certain clothes. We sit at a specific table in the lunchroom. Our parents know each other, socialize with one another, belong to the same clubs. We live in the same neighborhood in houses that are just different enough that we don't accidentally pull into the wrong driveway. And that's how it's always been. We've always been so sure of our path.

But Edward took a different one. He was the trailblazer. He fell in love and because it wasn't with me or Jess or Lauren or any of the girls on the short-list of the "right" ones, it wasn't accepted. Because of that, Edward drifted away. He cultivated a new set of friends and a new life. I have to wonder now, knowing that I'm about to do the same thing, if he was scared at all. I wonder if, like me, he decided that it was worth it no matter what changed.

Because things did change. And they have for me, too.

"But they already have," I say, speaking my thoughts out loud. "And they're going to continue. And you know what? I'm ready for it. I've spent so much time thinking about this, Edward, and I think I was resistant to change because I was scared of something else. It's really easy to get stuck, especially in _our _lives." I throw him a pointed look and he laughs wryly. "What Jacob was saying wasn't entirely unfounded, although he had a real asshole way of saying it."

He laughs again, but stays quiet as he turns into the parking. I take a deep breath. "The blinders are off now, you know? I've got a new perspective now. Emmett is the catalyst, yeah, but this has been a long time coming." I pause and smile softly. "I'm lucky that I have him to encourage it, though."

Edward pulls into a spot and shuts off the ignition. His engine clicks a few times before settling into silence and he shifts in his seat, facing me. "I'm happy that you've reached this point _and _that you're with Emmett. He's spent way too long watching you from the sidelines. I think he was just waiting for his opportunity."

"He has?" I ask, surprised. He gets quiet and I can tell he's thinking about how much he should or shouldn't say. It's what makes him an A+ friend. "You don't have to say anything."

"Come on, I think we both know he has. But even if he never said a word to me, I can see with my own eyes how the two of you are when you're together. The way he's opened up to you about his life? He doesn't do that with just anyone. It just shows that there's something really special there."

"Jesus, you've got an old soul." I smile at him.

"Oh, I'm at least a hundred and seven, internally," he quips back. We're quiet for a moment and then he looks around the parking lot, spotting Mike's BMW a few spaces over. "We should probably head inside, huh? Come on, Hale. You ready?"

Normally, I'd be reapplying gloss to my lips and checking my hair in the visor mirror, making sure I look perfect. But tonight, right now, I don't. Instead, I grab my camera and purse. "I'm ready."

* * *

><p>Ready?<p>

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	14. Chapter 14 King of Anything

Chapter 14 – King of Anything

"Someone spiked the punch."

I jump at the voice in my ear, startled. When I turn, Edward's right behind me wearing a grin and holding two plastic cups.

"You know who did it, right?" I yell over the loud, thumping music as I dart a glance at the entrance of the gym. I've been staring at it on and off since we got here almost an hour ago, watching everyone but who I want to see walk through the doorway draped with crepe streamers.

"The same person who does it at every dance?" Edward replies. He moves to toss the cups into the trash can next to us, but I stop him and take one. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything, and keeps his, too.

My gaze goes to Tyler, who's out on the dance floor with Lauren. His suit jacket is already off, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He pulls her close and she tips her head back and laughs, shimmying her hips. Even in the darkness, I can vaguely make out the outline of his trusty flask in his back pocket.

I shake my head when Tyler dips Lauren, nearly causing a wardrobe malfunction. "I don't know how he gets away with it."

"Sure you do."

I look down at my cup and sniff it. Damn,Tyler wasn't messing around. "I might need a drink to handle dancing with Roy in a few minutes."

Edward laughs wryly. "Yeah, well, if dinner was any indication, drink up."

I snort, shaking my head. Roy and Vera showed up at the restaurant soon after we sat down. Tyler and Mike must have mentioned that we'd be there, maybe even invited him and Vera, but after they hadn't shown up for pictures, I'd assumed we would be able to avoid the awkwardness until the dance.

Apparently not. Jess, Lauren and I all stared silently as they made their way over to our table. Edward patted my knee under the table while Mike and Tyler greeted Roy and Vera. We all squished over and the waitress grabbed two more chairs from a nearby table. Since I was on the end, I wound up with Roy right next to me. I'd tried to ignore the awkwardness and be friendly, tried to engage both Vera and Roy in conversation but Roy turned his whole body toward the rest of us, effectively cutting Vera out entirely.

I raise an eyebrow at Edward now, looking at my cup again before raising it to his. "In that case, shall we?"

"Okay, fine. But just this one. I'm not handing you over to Emmett all sloppy."

I snap my fingers with an exaggerated _aw shucks _expression. "And here I was thinking that I could pickpocket the flask without anyone noticing."

Edward narrows his eyes. "I'll be watching you, Hale," he warns, bumping his plastic cup against mine. "Bottoms up."

We both take large gulps, making faces.

"That's got a kick," he says with a cough.

I look sideways at him and catch him peeking at his phone before pocketing it. He shrugs with a grin and takes a nonchalant swig of the punch. "How's Bella?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Missing me, of course." Edward smiles, but the wistfulness of it gives him away. It's obvious the feeling is mutual. He nods his chin toward Tyler and Lauren, who've now been joined by Jess and Mike, back from getting their pictures taken. "Should we get out there?"

I nod, letting my eyes drift back to the door one last time before Edward steers me back toward everyone. We're pushing our luck standing on the sidelines, anyway. It's been ten minutes since we begged off, claiming extreme thirst after dancing to what felt like an endless stream of top 40 songs. I knew even before Edward slipped out into the hallway with his phone in his hand that he just needed an excuse to check in with Bella. Not that I was complaining at being temporarily ditched. It gave me free rein to watch for Emmett without Edward throwing me knowing smirks. Apparently I wasn't being subtle, although Jess and Lauren were too busy singing along to Britney Spears at the top of their lungs to notice that I was preoccupied.

I haven't heard from Emmett since dinner, when he texted me to say he was at Jasper's house, chilling with him and Alice before the dance. He didn't say when he'd be here, but the dance has been going on for close to two hours, so I know it's just a matter of time.

I just want to see him, want to know he's here.

With one last glance at the entrance, Edward and I make our way out onto the dance floor. We're out there for less than the length of one song when two things happen.

The first is the DJ gets on the microphone and calls the Queen and King to the booth.

And the other? Emmett walks in.

It's completely cheesy, but time slows when he walks into the gym. I'm talking _West Side Story_, when everything else fades away and there's just he and I. I see people moving around in my periphery but I'm frozen, standing motionless, eyes only for him.

He hasn't found me yet, and I watch him scanning the room. In the background, the DJ says something about the Queen, and I hear my name, feel my friends closing in.

Emmett's suit is a dark, dark blue, and _god_, he looks so good. I can't wait to see him up close, because I know I'll find that color in the flecks in his eyes. I need to be in front of him, next to him, touching him.

He finally finds me, and I see the corners of his mouth tug up, pulling into a wide grin. I know my expression echoes his as he mouths, "hi."

My fingers find my lips and I tap them. I take a step forward, toward him. The pull is undeniable.

Hands grip my shoulders and Jess stops me, spinning my body around. Lauren is right next to her, her hands on her hips.

"Rosalie! Come _on._" Jess snakes her arm around my shoulders. Lauren gets on my other side, wrapping an arm around my waist, and they start propelling me toward the DJ booth. "They've called you like a zillion times! Are you ready for this?"

I look back over my shoulder and see Emmett still watching me, although the smile's dimmer now. Jasper and Alice are standing next to him and Alice nudges Emmett with her elbow, wearing a sympathetic expression.

It's enough to make me stop.

"Posie?" Lauren questions in my ear. Their eyes dart to where Roy is standing near the DJ, his crown on and his hands stuffed into his pants' pockets. She and Jess can obviously tell something is wrong, but by the way they're looking between the two of us like they're at a tennis match, I know they think it's about Roy and this dance. It's not about him, though. Now that I think about it, it never was.

Now isn't the time to get into that with Jess and Lauren, though. I remind myself for what might be the millionth time tonight that I just need to get through this. It's the last time I'll be playing this role, and as painful as it's become, having a deadline eases it a little bit.

Edward makes his way over to me and gives me a rueful grin. Lauren squeezes my side. "Knock 'em dead, Killer. I'll be over there with Jas, Al and Em when you're done." He tilts his head toward where they're standing, as if I don't know. After a split second of confusion I realize he's helping me out, giving me a reason to be near Emmett when this is over.

Like I need one.

I smile gratefully at Edward, and then we're in motion and I'm being pushed to the front, finding my place near the DJ and Roy. The DJ is talking, saying words that make no sense. I'm so anxious to just get this over and done with. It's the last of my duties in the life that's been holding me back from moving forward, from being myself.

Once the DJ's done announcing us to the crowd, Roy offers his arm with a thin smile. There's nothing I can do but take it. I let him lead me to the dance floor and he wraps his arms around my waist. My arms go around his neck out of habit and he pulls me close. Even though I've been this close to him plenty of times before, it feels more wrong now than it ever did. I'm sure it looks practiced, though, like we've been doing this for years.

The first few dances we went to after we started dating were different than the last ones. Royce actually danced with me, pulled me close like he's doing now. I have a feeling it had more to do with feeling my body against his, because once we started having sex, the dancing eventually stopped. He didn't need to feel me like that, because he had me in a way that was bigger than swaying to some stupid four-minute song in Forks High School's gym.

Maybe that's why he doesn't seem at all put out to be dancing with me now. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he knows this is the only time we have. Four minutes to feel me, and he has to do it in front of hundreds of people.

I'm only worried about one. My eyes scan the crowd over Roy's shoulder, looking for Emmett, but all I can see is a blur of faces and then Jess, Lauren, Mike and Tyler holding court at the front of the circle of people who are surrounding Roy and me. Mike and Tyler are laughing, jostling each other and generally acting like jackasses. Jess and Lauren have their arms linked, the skirts of their dresses moving back and forth as they sway to the music. Lauren's leaning her head against Jess's, looking a little wistful. I know she doesn't begrudge me for winning, but I also know she'd be out here in a heartbeat if she could.

"Listen, Rosalie..." Roy's voice is low in my ear, his mouth too close. I dip my head away infinitesimally.

"Don't, Roy," I say, keeping my expression neutral.

I can tell he's pissed. I feel the tension in his shoulders, like he's holding his breath or words in his chest. Like he's waiting for the right time to let them go.

I remember I always used to wish he'd yell when he got mad, instead of going cold and steely, quiet. He thought the lack of volume in his voice made him so different from his dad, but the tone was the same. I was around enough times when Royce Sr. went off on him for whatever reason (sometimes no reason at all). The angry flash in their eyes was the same, the redness that crept up their neck. I think if Roy knew how much he looked like his dad in those moments, he'd find a way to change that, too, just like he changed his name.

"I miss you," he continues. The statement loses its meaning in the hardness of his tone.

While my expression remains neutral, my heart is beating hard against my chest. I hope to god he can't feel it, that it doesn't give him the wrong impression. "Don't," I repeat, more forcefully.

His fingers tighten against my back. "Why?"

"We broke up, Roy."

"No, _you_ pulled some bullshit on me. This wasn't a _we _thing."

I don't even try to hide my scowl now. I catch Jess's eye briefly, and she raises an eyebrow, so I look away, toward a nameless group of people, try to smooth out my expression. "I wasn't happy with you. How is that bullshit?"

"We were together for three years, Rosalie, and then all of a sudden you text me to come over and break up with me in your driveway. _That's _bullshit. It's bullshit that you think there's someone out there that makes more sense for you than me."

"Royce -" It just slips out and underneath my hands, I feel him tense even more.

"Don't." His voice is hard, flinty, his tone snide.

I try again. "We don't make sense in the ways that matter to me, and I couldn't ignore that anymore. I'm sorry that you're hurt, okay? But I don't think you want _me _back. You want Posie, because that's who you make sense with."

"You _are _Posie. You're wearing a crown on your head, aren't you? And so am I, so what does that say?"

"God, you're not making a good argument for yourself," I say, pulling back so I can look up at him. The lights overhead reflect on his face, throwing his eyes into shadow and then illuminating them. "Roy, being Homecoming Queen isn't the only thing that defines me. It's not who I am. Being King isn't who _you _are."

He rolls his eyes. "I know that. But Jesus, Rosalie, this is where you belong."

"No," I reply, shaking my head. His jaw sets stubbornly, and he tries to pull me close again, but I resist. "I'm not that girl anymore, and I was never _just _that girl. You just never took the time to figure that out. You want her, not me."

"That's not true," he says with conviction, and I really do think he believes it. I think he believes he wants the girl that I am, rather than the girl he needs me to be. And that's why he's hurting - not because he misses me, but because he misses what we were.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," I reply. I hear the song coming to an end, its final chorus. "We're done, though. I'm not going to come back to you. I'm not going to see you with Vera and decide that I want it to be me, so if that's what you're doing, don't. She doesn't deserve that."

He doesn't say anything at that, just looks away and loosens his hold on me. It's slight, but I feel it, can breathe a little easier. I think he gets it now, _finally_, and I don't know if it's time and distance that's helped him understand what I told him in my driveway a month ago - because it's the same thing I'm saying now - or something else. Whatever it is, I breathe a silent sigh of relief.

The song drifts to an end, and I start to completely pull away, but his palm presses lightly against my back, keeping me there for a few extra seconds. I look up at him, this boy I spent three years with, and see the hurt in his eyes. Even if he understands now, it doesn't change the way he feels.

But I can't help that. I've spent most of my life making myself something I wasn't because I wanted to be right for other people, and I ended up hurting myself instead. This is another lesson I'm learning, that sometimes other people get hurt, are disappointed in the process of you being true to yourself. And I won't let that stop me anymore, the fear of disappointing anyone else. I've been disappointing myself for too long.

People clap and whoop and the spotlight that was on Roy and me fades. Our moment is over.

He lets me go.

I step back and take a deep breath, looking over my shoulder as the DJ announces the rest of the court will dance in a few minutes. Jess and Lauren come toward me, hands in the air, hips and shoulders shimmying. Mike and Tyler are right behind them, closing in on me.

"Let's dance!" Lauren yells in my ear as a rap song starts blaring through the speakers.

I start moving my feet halfheartedly, but my eyes are still scanning the crowd, looking for Emmett. I can't find him, despite the fact that he's taller than pretty much everyone. But then Mike moves his big head, and I see Emmett standing about twenty feet away with Edward, Alice and Jasper. They're standing in a loose circle, laughing. I watch him for a second, the way his lips curl up when he says something that makes Alice punch him in the arm, how broad his shoulders look in his suit jacket.

I want to see all of that up close, right now.

I turn back to Jess and Lauren and hook my thumb over my shoulder. "I'm going to go get Edward. I'll be right back."

They look toward him distractedly and nod. Or at least I think they do. It's possible they're just bobbing their heads in time with the music. Regardless, I'm already moving, pushing past flailing arms and swaying bodies to get to Emmett.

Alice sees me first and her face brightens with a wide smile. She looks gorgeous, this tiny thing in a black tulle dress that looks vintage, and bright pink lips, a flower pinning up one side of her hair. It's so quintessentially Alice, so unique from all of the other girls wearing different versions of the same short satin dress, but she doesn't look out of place.

She nudges Emmett, but he keeps his attention on Edward, nodding and laughing. I watch, still trying to get to them, as her mouth purses. She pushes him this time, and he doesn't move, of course, but it gets his attention. He looks down at her and then his head swings around when she points toward me. Only one corner of his mouth pulls up, but I get both dimples.

I'm pretty sure I step on some poor girl's foot in the last few steps to get to Emmett and everyone else. I murmur an apology she can't hear over the music, and when I turn back around, Emmett's got his fist over his mouth, hiding his laughter. I roll my eyes and step into the space he and Edward make for me.

He leans in, his mouth right next to my ear. "You know, usually Swan's the one who makes it a habit to bump into people. That excited to see me, huh?"

"Your modesty never fails to blow me away," I reply, poking his side with my elbow. I turn to the rest of the group with a bright smile. "Hi."

"Should we kneel or something?" Jasper asks, reaching over to tap my crown. "I don't know the protocol for greeting the Queen."

"'Hi' works," I say dryly.

Jasper turns to Emmett with a wicked smile. "McCarty, you should _definitely_ get on your knees."

"Oh, I'd love to see that," Edward quips.

"I'm sure you would," Emmett replies, completely straight-faced. Jasper lets out a hoot as Edward reaches around me to punch Emmett's shoulder.

Alice blinks at them, frowning, and then turns to me with an affectionate sigh. "Idiots." Her face brightens and she reaches out to grab my free hand. "You look gorgeous, Ro. That dress? Unreal."

My eyes automatically slide over to Emmett and he mouths, "It's true."

Emmett's hand snakes around my arm closest to him, his fingers tracing down my forearm and my wrist until our palms are flush. We stay like that for a second, frozen, before my fingers find the spaces between his and tighten, holding him there. He smiles and I do, too, feeling for a moment like we're alone, even with all of these people surrounding us. I can't help darting a look over my shoulder at Jess and Lauren, but I can only see the tops of their heads through the crowd of people.

I can feel Emmett's eyes on me, even after I turn back to Alice. "You look incredible, too. All of you do. I'm really glad you guys are here."

"What, and miss this stunning social event?" Alice waves her arm in the air dramatically. "Never."

"We're ditching this shit ASAP," Jasper announces matter-of-factly, adjusting the knot of his black skinny tie. "How many songs does Katy Perry have, anyway?"

"It feels like five hundred." Edward shakes his head, looking over his shoulder toward the DJ booth, where the rest of the court is congregating. "Shit, and now I have to go dance."

Emmett holds up crossed fingers. "If there's a god, it'll be to Bryan Adams."

"Please save me," Alice begs, her eyes wide. "I don't have Bella as a buffer here."

I sigh. "Trust me, I'm trying to save myself, too." I turn to Emmett reluctantly, pulling my hand from his. He looks as disappointed as I feel. "I have to go back. Are you going to stick around?"

He nods. "Coach wants to give some sort of "fuck yeah" speech that the team has to rally for after the rest of the court dances."

I lean in as close as I can, breathing in his cologne, my palm against his chest. "_Will_ you stick around? Until I'm done with this, I mean?" I pull back and look up at him and he nods again, his smile and dimples and eyes soft. "I'll hurry."

"You don't have to."

"I want to," I state. Being here with him now has been the best three minutes of my night. I can't wait to get out of here and be alone with him. By the way his smile grows, I can tell he feels the same way.

"C'mon, Ro," Edward calls, beckoning to me from a few feet away. I back away from Emmett reluctantly and follow Edward back through the thick crowd until we reach Jess and Mike at the table we claimed earlier. Lauren and Tyler are already at the DJ booth and Edward nods his chin at me and then strolls over to them, his hand stuffed in his pockets.

"What's with the smile?" Jess asks, tilting her head thoughtfully.

I try to pull my face into a normal expression. I can feel how flushed my cheeks are, though. "What smile?"

"_That _smile. I haven't seen that smile since…" She trails off. "Okay, well, ever. Got a secret, Posie?" she teases, poking me in the side.

"No," I reply, my eyes sliding to where Emmett's standing. _Not for long_.

Jess flops into a seat next to Mike, resting her head on his shoulder. She pats the chair next to her, but I shake my head. I'm too amped up to sit. I'm already thinking of excuses to leave, not limited to making Edward pretend he's come down with salmonella poisoning.

Somewhere in the middle of the song, Jess and Mike stop trying to make halfhearted conversation with me and start making out. My eyes find Emmett again – he's closer now, and alone – and I roll my eyes. He grins, and the look he's giving me makes me want to go to him. It makes me want to take his hand and pull him out of the gym and take him back to my house, my room.

After the court dances, Coach Clapp gets up on stage and talks about the game last night. True to Emmett's word, he does pretty much say everything short of "fuck yeah" but the sentiment is definitely there. The football team huddles around the stage below him, making noise and slapping each other on the back. Jess and Lauren catcall from beside me, so I do, too, because I can. I hope Emmett hears me.

Edward sidles up next to me as the music starts back up again. "So hey, how much longer do I have to be your beard? Bella's staying awake so we can Skype when I get home."

I turn to him, raising a teasing eyebrow. "Skype, huh?"

"I just want to see her," he replies simply.

My heart tugs at the honesty in his voice, the little upturn of his mouth, and I shake my head. "Man, she has you wrapped around her finger."

"Hey, I own being owned." My eyes drift back to Emmett and I hear Edward sigh. "Shit, you've put in your time here, Ro. Why don't you guys get out of here, too?"

I look back at the dance floor, where Lauren and Tyler are. They're wrapped up in each other, completely ignoring the fact that the song they're slow-dancing to is a fast one. Tyler's pretty much supporting all of Lauren's weight and her eyes are closed, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Jess and Mike are sitting at the table again, wrapped up in each other, too. Or at least their mouths are.

I don't even need an excuse. They won't miss me if I go now. Maybe in past years it would've been more noticeable, when it was more about us girls hanging out and dancing. But now, Jess and Lauren have Mike and Tyler. And as far as they know, right now I have Edward, who's practically dancing in place he's so anxious to get out of here.

"Okay, yeah. Let me just tell Jess I'm leaving," I say, finally. Of the two of them, Jess will be the easier one to deal with. Besides, I'm not trying to interrupt the moment Lauren and Tyler are having on the dance floor. God knows when – or if – one of the chaperones will be breaking that situation up.

"Sweet, I'll go spread the good word to everyone else," Edward replies, already striding off, an extra pep in his step.

I shake my head and take a few steps toward Jess and Mike, placing my hand on Jess's shoulder. She unsticks her lips from Mike's and looks up at me, disoriented. "Edward wants to leave, so I'm going to head out with him," I tell her, leaning in so she can hear me over the music.

"What?" she exclaims, grabbing Mike's wrist and checking his watch. "We still have…" She squints and then shrugs, looking up at me. "Some time left before the dance is over."

"I don't want to hang out here by myself, Stan." _Not when I can be somewhere else with Emmett. _

"You're not alone. You've got me and Lauren."

I give her and Mike a look and then point over my shoulder at Lauren and Tyler. "Fifth wheel much?"

"Aww, let her go, Jess," Mike says, nuzzling her neck.

"Oh, fine," Jess replies with a sigh. Her irritation is diluted by the giggle she lets out when Mike places a sloppy kiss on her cheek and wraps his arm around her neck, bringing her close again. "I'll text you later and let you know the plan, okay?"

"Mmm," I hum noncommittally. I don't want to tell her that my plan for the rest of the night is much different from _her _plan. Mine doesn't include Mike's backyard and alcohol in Solo cups. It includes Emmett and me, hopefully alone. "See you later. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Mike grins, pulling Jess onto his lap. "It's a couple years too late for that, Pose."

I laugh and turn around, looking for Edward and the rest of the gang. They're nowhere to be found. I wouldn't be surprised if Jasper and Alice escaped as soon as the words "let's go" were out of Edward's mouth. Hell, I'm not entirely sure _Edward_ hasn't escaped, too. Not that it matters. I know someone who wouldn't mind giving me a ride home.

As I make my way closer to the side doors of the gym, I see one open a crack. And then Emmett's there. He grins and jerks his head, summoning me into the hallway. A quick glance over my shoulder confirms that no one is paying attention. Except for him, of course. I always have his complete attention.

The latch on the door clicks behind me and it's just him and me in the empty hallway. The music is still pumping from the gym, but it's muffled.

"Going somewhere?" he teases.

"Told you I wanted to hurry," I reply.

He smiles and his whole face is involved: eyes, cheeks, mouth and, of course, dimples too. "Yeah, well, you got ditched. Edward took off like his ass was on fire."

I laugh, nodding. "He's got the right idea. It's time to go."

I start walking toward the doors to the parking lot, praying to god he knows that he's coming with me, or more technically speaking, that I'm going with him. Wherever it is, we'll be there together. A quick glance over my shoulder shows that he's just a step behind.

I feel his hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the front door. I shiver at the contact, wanting to turn, wanting more. Always wanting with him.

When I reach the door, he's quick to skirt around me and hold it open. "Ladies first. Gram taught me that. Plus, I'm in the presence of high school royalty."

"Just don't get on your knees," I order.

His mouth twitches, like he's holding back a comment, and I raise a challenging eyebrow. "Do you have something to say, McCarty?"

"Nothing I can say out loud, your Highness," he replies with an innocent smile.

There's a slight mist as we step into the night and I remember, for the first time in a while, the obligation sitting on top of my head. Reaching up, I pull the pins and combs out and remove the jeweled crown. I look at it in my hands, the rhinestones no longer sparkling now that there are no lights for it to catch, and then back up at him. "I'm just Rosalie when I'm with you."

"_Just _Rosalie, huh? Is that a good thing?" he asks, as he shrugs off his suit jacket and places it over my bare shoulders. It's warm from him, smells like him, and I burrow into it, let it wrap around me. I love that his actions aren't calculated. They're what makes him Emmett, all-encompassing, good through and through.

They're what make me love him.

My eyes widen at the words that come so easily in my mind. It took me months to get to the point where I could say it to Roy and even when I did, it felt forced, unnatural. Just thinking it with Emmett feels right. And suddenly, I can't wait to tell him. I don't know why it surprised me; I want to tell him everything.

"Oh, that's a _very _good thing." I take his hand and weave my fingers through his, lightly yanking him to a stop. "Hey."

He turns to face me and steps closer, putting one hand on my hip and bringing the other to my face. "Hey," he says softly, tracing the curve of my cheek with his thumb. I lean into his touch and wrap my hand around his forearm, pull him even closer. Except for the muffled noise of the music playing inside, it's quiet out here.

"You haven't even asked where we're going."

He smiles, a slow one that carves his dimples deep. "I don't really care where we go. I'm just glad I finally get you to myself." His eyes travel over my face and he pushes my hair back behind my ear. "You look so beautiful, Rose. Jas was giving me so much shit because I couldn't keep my eyes off you the whole time we were in there."

"Likewise," I murmur.

"It's the suit, isn't it?" he guesses with a knowing nod. "I look hot. You didn't say it before, but I could tell."

I shrug, working hard to stop my smile. "You look pretty good."

_Such a lie. _I don't think there's anyone in the history of suits who's looked as good as he does tonight. His broad shoulders and those long legs were made for it.

His lip juts out playfully, and I tap it with my finger. "I tell you that you look beautiful, and I just get _pretty good_?"

"You want me to tell you that you look beautiful? Is that what you're saying?" I shoot back. His grin goes wide and there's no way to prevent the laugh that bubbles up my throat. He looks sexy and adorable at the same time, a man wearing a boy's smile.

"Oh, you don't have to say anything," he replies, dipping his head a little. His eyes narrow playfully. "I know you want this, Hale."

When I raise my eyebrow, he raises his back in challenge. I can't resist him, not that I want to, and he knows it. I look around us, almost out of habit, but the parking lot is empty. At this point, I don't think I'd care if we had an audience, though.

When I turn back to him, his eyes are a little narrow, curious, and I wrap my hand around his neck, pulling him down to me. His lips meet mine - smiling, of course - and I sigh because I finally get to feel him and taste him. His hand goes to my hip; I can feel his fingers digging in through the fabric of my dress, but the hand on my face is still gentle. The night finally feels perfectly right, like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, even though it's cold and I'm sure the mist is ruining my hair and my toes are going a little numb.

"My parents are at the DAR gala right now. They might get a hotel room tonight," I whisper when we pull away, the words coming out choppy. "We can go to my house..."

His lips graze mine, and then, "Is that where you want to go?"

I nod again, not quite meeting his eyes, staring at his mouth instead. Suddenly I'm nervous, because even though I'm not saying it, I know what could happen. I know what I _want _to happen.

Emmett's fingers push gently against my chin until I'm forced to look at him. His eyebrows go up again, this time in question. "You sure?"

I don't know if it's the look in his eyes, concerned, but also anticipating, or the way his lips are pulled up in this really soft way that makes me ache, but I _am_ sure. And I know he is, too.

"Yeah," I say. "Is that okay?"

He smiles. "Yeah. I need to stop at home and make sure Gram's all tucked in first, though."

"Okay."

"Okay," he repeats, all dimples. His lips find mine and we kiss, long and slow and sweet, and I don't care if anyone sees. He pulls away and tucks me into his side and we walk to his Jeep, my hip bumping against his leg and my crown dangling haphazardly from my index finger. Emmett helps me scramble into the passenger seat (which is much harder to do in heels), and then reaches over me to grab the hat sitting on his dash. After he places it backwards on his head, he looks at me thoughtfully, his hand gripping the door. "Your dad doesn't have a gun, right?"

I'm still laughing when he slides into the driver's side. The thought of my dad with a gun...well, it's just ridiculous. "No, Daddy doesn't have a gun." I see him visibly relax, his shoulders loosening as he sinks into his seat, starting the Jeep. I shake my head as I add in, "He wouldn't dirty his hands like that. He'd just hire someone."

His hands grip the steering wheel tightly as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Oh, okay. Awesome. Well, that's good to know."

_Oh, this is fun. _I decide to push it a little more because I can. "Hey, sure. No problem. And if they do randomly come home, I can always hide you in my closet. It's a walk-in so you won't even have to duck down. I could keep you in there until it's safe to come out. Bring you food, that sort of thing."

He shoots me a look out of the corner of his eye and grins at my teasing. "That's reassuring, Hale."

"I'd take very good care of you," My tone takes on a different quality: less teasing, more wanting and it reminds us both of what we're doing here.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. There's an extended pause before he says, "I have no doubt about that."

We're both quiet for a while, lost in thought. My finger traces the piping on the door and I remember seeing Emmett riding with his friends down the street to Edward's house during summers past, his Jeep sans doors and top. I sat on the steps of my house, painting my toenails and wondering what they were talking about; wondering what it was like to hang out with them. Wondering if I'd ever have the nerve to talk to the boy I'd been drawn to from afar for so long.

And now I know.

"Hey, the top and doors come off of this, right?"

"That's extremely random." His eyebrows draw together and the tip of his tongue grabs on to his top lip as he concentrates on driving for a moment, turning onto his street. "And yeah, they do. Why?"

"One day, in the spring or summer, can we do that?"

He smiles broadly and squeezes my hand quickly before parking in front of his house. "We can do anything you want."

I grin. I love to hear him say that; I believe it more from him than anyone else.

He leans over the center console and kisses me slow and deep, just once. I rest my hand on his chest and feel a rumble before he pulls away. He shakes his head and holds up his hand, indicating we need to wait a minute. Before he gets too far, I grab the cap off his head and place it on mine. I must look ridiculous, sitting there with his suit jacket and baseball cap on my head, but the way he looks at me makes me think, _maybe not_. After he climbs out of the Jeep, he leans against the roof and squints in at me. "Sit tight, babe. I'll be right back."

He jogs to the front door and lets himself in. While I'm sitting there, I check my phone. There are texts from both Jess and Lauren saying that they're headed to Mike's soon. I message back, calling it a night. And then I tap out another text, telling them both I want to get together tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to tell them about Emmett. I don't want to wait anymore. I shouldn't have to.

My text to Jess and Lauren is just going through when one from Edward pops up.

_Safe?_

I glance up and see that Emmett's shutting the door and locking it behind him. I answer quickly, switch it to vibrate, and then slip the phone back into my purse.

_And sound._

* * *

><p>Whatcha thinking right now? Hmmmm? We'd love hear!<p>

Thanks to Jan, Val and JD who have been with us and this story for a long time and _very_ supportive throughout. Everyone should be as lucky as we are!

One of our readers, twilightery (two-zero-zero), took the time to make a RPT thread on twilighted dot net. We're sharing extra teasers (in addition to the ones we send along with review replies), pictures, and other tomfoolery there so please swing by and say hello! We'll put the link in our profile because we know ffnet does NOT like links in chapters.

Also, a heads up... we're planning to update once a week from here until the end of the story (18 chapters, plus an epi), to round out the summer. We'll mostly be posting on Sunday night/Monday morning.

See you soon!


	15. Chapter 15 Arms

Chapter 15 - Arms

Emmett parks in my driveway and shuts off the ignition. We've been mostly quiet from his house to mine, the silence laced with excitement and nerves. The realness of what awaits us inside my empty house, particularly in my room, is settling in. The house's quiet has never seemed so appealing, so welcoming.

I jump out of the Jeep before he does and make my way to his side. Before he even gets out of the car I'm there, and he chuckles. "Anxious, Hale?"

"Oh, don't pretend like you're not," I shoot back, raising an eyebrow as he exaggerates a slow, leisurely pace. I let the ambling go on for a few steps before I grab his hand with both of mine and walk backwards, pulling him along. He laughs, his voice filling the quiet night air, and I giggle along with him because that's just how it is when I'm near him. His mood is infectious and sexy. I can't get enough of him; want to absorb all of him.

When we get to the steps I stop, but he keeps coming at me until he's right in my space, our bodies pressed together for the briefest moment. I turn to walk up the steps with him right behind me, his arms wrapped around my torso, his hands running deliciously along my hips. His breath on my neck and shoulders makes me shiver.

Once we're at the front door, I move out of habit. I've come home to an empty house many times before and while nothing about bringing Emmett home to it is routine, this part is. Fishing the key out of my purse, I let us in, automatically turning to the alarm keypad, and press the code to stop its incessant chirping.

Just like always, I hear Eric approach. His nails click on the floor, picking up speed, until he skids to a stop in front of us. His expression says _Well, well, well, what do we have here? _Emmett steps back, putting distance between us, and I want to laugh at the nervous look on his face. Like Eric is going to say something to my parents. (Although with him, who knows? I'm sure he's figured out Morse code or paw tapping by now).

Just to be safe, though, I lean down to pick Eric up and give him some love since he will _not _be invited into my room.

I turn back to the alarm with the dog in my arms, re-engaging it, then give Eric a scratch behind his ears before setting him down. Of course he doesn't scamper off like a good little dog. Oh no, he stays _right _there.

"You're... setting the alarm while we're in the house?" Emmett asks, watching me curiously.

"Habit," I say with a shrug. He moves slowly toward me, gently pushing his jacket off my shoulders, and I shiver when his fingers graze against my skin. "My parents have always drilled it in my head that I should when they aren't home."

"Ah, keeping the bad guys out?" The jacket falls quietly to the floor. I drop the crown on top of it, nodding wordlessly. "What if he's already in?"

My nod turns to a shake, slow and long. "You're not bad..."

One corner of his mouth pulls up as he traces along my jaw with the back of his index finger. It's the only place he touches me, but I feel it everywhere. He watches its progress and then his eyes bounce back to mine. "What am I, then?"

He's beautiful and smart and sweet. He has the biggest heart and the warmest smile. He knows who he is and doesn't apologize for any of it. And he wants me to be exactly who I am, too - the Homecoming Queen and the photography geek, the popular girl _and_ the smart, shy girl. _His _girl.

"You're kind of amazing," I reply, teasing but not. The smile he levels at me is shy and sinful at the same time.

"Hey, that was supposed to be my line." He steps closer. His chest brushes against mine, and my skin explodes in goosebumps.

"You can give me another line."

"Yeah?"

My bottom lip catches between my teeth as I nod. I take his hat off my head, dropping it next to my crown.

"Okay, how about this?" Emmett dips his head and then pulls back, squinting mock-seriously at me. "It's not a line, though."

"I think I can forgive you for that," I whisper and lean my head back, looking at him, waiting for him to lay it on me.

"You're so fucking special," he half-says, half-sings. His smile is all dimples.

I raise an eyebrow. "Um, that's a _line_ from a song, Em."

He shrugs. "Well, yeah. But it's the truth, too. You are."

I scrunch my nose and smile up at him, giddy. I've seen it in him all along and with everything he's said to me, he's seen it in _me_, too. "You know, you're right. I am."

I don't know how it's possible but his smile gets even wider. I know I'm beaming back up at him. His gaze shifts to the steps and then back to me. "Come on, you wanna go upstairs?"

"Um, yes. Yes. I do." I turn to start walking in that direction, but get a sudden case of nerves. "Wait. Do you want something to drink or eat?"

"You're very... hospitable, Rosalie." My name on his lips is delicious. "But no, I'm good."

"Oh, okay. Well then, should we...?" I gesture up the steps with a sweeping arm motion, and he looks at the floor, before looking back up at me.

"Yeah," he breathes out.

I take his hand in mine and grip the banister as we ascend the steps. Eric is right on our heels, which sort of makes the whole moment a hell of a lot less romantic and way more awkward, since we're both trying not to trip over him. Once we're in my room, I shut the door behind me and lean against it. I flip on the light switch right next to me, again out of habit, and the light shines brightly over us. Eric scratches at the door once before I hear him snort, his collar jangling as he makes his way back down the stairs.

Emmett is right in front of me, just inches away. I stare at his hands as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up so they're resting right at the top of his forearms. They go still before one creeps its way up to catch my chin, tilting my face up so he can see me. "Rosalie?"

I start giggling; it occurs to me now, of all times, that I'm a nervous laugher. "I... I think I'm nervous." I shake my head at myself. "Which is ridiculous because... well, because you're you and I'm me and we're so right together. And I want this. Like, more than I've ever wanted this before and that's why I just -"

"Rosalie." He repeats my name again, like he's reminding me who I am.

"Yeah?"

His fingers find the light switch and click it off, leaving the room glowing from the small lamp sitting on my desk and the string of white Christmas lights hanging over my bed.

"Come here," he says as he takes both of my hands in his and pulls me to the middle of my room. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. One hand stays planted on my back while the other one cradles my hair. And then we're swaying.

I start to pull away. "Wait, what are you - what are we -"

"Dancing," he hums, his grip tightening around me. Never mind the fact that there's no music.

"I thought you didn't dance. That's what you told me that first night at Edward's house," I say, almost shyly.

"You weren't supposed to remember anything from that night," he reminds me.

"Yeah, well, I remember _everything _from that night," I tease. "You called me beautiful."

"You told me your secret," he counters, turning us slowly in a circle.

I breathe him in, my nose pressed against his chest. "I'd tell you all of my secrets."

"I'll keep that in mind." I can hear the smile in his voice, and I pull back so I can see it. His hair looks almost black in the soft light, wild curls framing his face. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." _Everything_. I run my hands up his back and his muscles tense under my fingertips, his dimples flashing in acknowledgement of my touch. It makes my heart skip a beat.

"I was bummed out earlier watching you dance with King -"

"I don't think you would've been if you knew what was really going on out there," I interrupt with a soft snort.

"What was really going on out there?"

"A lot of awkwardness. He didn't take the break up very well. I think he figured that I'd come back to him, you know? And when I didn't..." I shrug, watching the steady thump of Emmett's pulse in his neck. "He just needed to be reminded why I did it in the first place. We were never good for each other, especially at the end."

"Does he get it now?" Emmett asks. His jaw is twitching a little and I place a kiss there.

"I'm pretty sure I laid it out clearly."

"Good." He grins, spinning me in a slow circle before pulling me back to him again. "Anyway, I was bummed out about that, but I've gotta say this worked out in my favor."

I quirk my eyebrow. "Dancing in my room without music is in your favor?"

"Trust me, I'd rather be in your bedroom than the gym. And I can sing if you want, but my singing skills are even shittier than my dancing skills." I let out a laugh and shake my head, a little breathless. I'm aware again of how private it is here, how intimate it is to be this close to him in my room when no one's home. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing; his heart is beating fast and heavy, even though his voice is nonchalant. It dips lower when he says, "I like how it turned out, just you and me here."

"Me, too," I murmur.

Eventually our movements slow until we drift to a stop. We don't let go, still pressed so close, and I close my eyes, almost afraid to look at him.

I remember what it felt like just before Roy and I had sex for the first time, how nervous I was, the way my fingers shook when I unbuttoned my top (because he was impatient and couldn't get them undone fast enough). But this nervous, the nervous I'm feeling when Emmett's fingers trail up from the base of my spine until they hit bare skin just below my shoulder blades, when they go all the way up until they reach my neck, is so different. It's just that I want this so bad. I want to be good for him because he's been so good to me.

My breath catches when I feel Emmett's nose against my temple. He's shifting, moving his head so that his mouth is close to mine. I hold onto him, stop breathing completely. The anticipation of who's going to make the first move is almost painful, but then he decides for us, catching my lips with his. His mouth is warm, soft, and I let out a whimper, which I'm embarrassed about for approximately half a second. But he seems to like it, inhaling through his nose and pulling me closer while his mouth not so gently coerces mine open. And then there's no room for embarrassment or nervousness, not for this kiss, because he feels so, so good.

His hands drift, explore, but don't go to the places that ache for him, just in my hair and dragging along the curve of my waist, curling around my hips. We're still standing in the middle of my room, but even when I deepen the kiss he doesn't pull me back toward the bed like I expect him to.

There's a sudden noise outside, a neighbor pulling into their driveway or something. I barely hear it, but Emmett pulls away, wild-eyed. "Shit, is that - are your parents home?"

"What? Shhh, no." My lips find his again, try to ease his unwarranted nerves, but he pulls his lips away from mine, looking around.

"Your dad hasn't even met me. I don't want the first time that we meet to be the day he orders the hit -"

I squint up at him, giggling at his sudden nerves. It's a nice turn around, to be the one so sure. "I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I? You can check out my closet if you're that concerned." His eyes dart over to the closet door, like he's almost considering it. Pulling away, I walk toward my bed. "While you're over there, I guess I'll just be over here. On my bed." I sigh dramatically. "Alone."

Flopping down at the foot of my bed, I kick off my shoes, then lean back and grin at the ceiling. I know it's only a matter of time before he comes over, and he does. But instead of lying on the bed, he hovers at the edge of it, right over me. He's back-lit by the strand of twinkle lights, reminding me of the stars that lit up the sky behind him that first night in Edward's backyard.

I can tell by his smile that he's thinking the same thing. "Now, why does this feel familiar?"

"You've always felt familiar, Em. Even when we didn't really know each other."

He says nothing, just lowers himself onto the bed next to me and runs a finger up my side, tracing the zipper on my dress. Even though there's fabric between us, his finger is charged, the zap of electricity tangible, if not visible. Leaning back, my head automatically falls to the side as his nose runs along the column of my neck, making me shiver. His nose skims higher, toward my ear, his mouth following with soft kisses.

"Can I?" he asks, his breath heavy and hot in my ear as his finger makes its way back up the teeth of the zipper, parting the fabric that keeps it hidden.

I make a noise I can only assume lets him know that he's more than welcome to, because he grasps the tiny zipper, pulling it down to where it stops just at my hip. His mouth leaves my neck and I look over my shoulder so I can see his face. There's a mystified expression as his eyes scan back up to see the tiny eyelet hook still clasped, holding the fabric together.

"Jesus," he grumbles under his breath. "They really make these things complicated, don't they?" He has to employ both hands to grasp one side of the dress and unclasp it, and I lean to the side to give him a better angle. I could help more, but it's a hell of a lot more humorous watching him.

"And just think, you haven't even gotten to my strapless bra yet."

"I'm counting on you to help me out there." He releases his hold on my dress and it falls to my waist. I let out a little sigh when he sucks in a breath and murmurs, "So damn beautiful."

When I stand up and let it slip over my hips and pool at my feet, I keep my eyes on him, because the look on his face makes me feel brave. I step closer, biting my lip when his hands go to the backs of my thighs to bring me between his legs.

I finger one of the buttons on his shirt with a smile. "Your turn."

"By all means."

He's grinning, too, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin as I pop open the first button, move to the next one and then the next. He gets the bottom ones that I can't reach, and shrugs out of it. Then he pulls at the neck of his undershirt to yank it over his head and I try not to make a noise when I see all of that skin and muscle. Jesus, he's really, really gorgeous. We've felt each other, have seen parts of one another, but not like this. I feel a rush of anticipation. I can't even hide the fact that I'm staring at him. He's staring, too, intense but still with a hint of the smile that's so him.

I definitely _do _make a noise when I kneel against the bed and his hands find me again, his mouth going to my neck. I can't help myself. He lets out a barely audible moan that I hear more in my bones than anywhere else. His breath is fast and warm as he kisses down to my collarbone.

I feel his broad palm move up my thigh, over my behind and up my back until he gets to the clasp of my bra. He fumbles with it and I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. My hands weave into his hair, about to bring him back to me, but a second later he's got it and it falls down between us.

I'm sure he can see my heart beating through my chest; he's looking right at it, one hand moving to feel me there. He traces the curve of my breast, sweeps his thumb over skin that I didn't know was this sensitive before now.

"You didn't need me after all," I say, teasing with words while he does the same with touch. My voice comes out shaky. This is really happening. There's this slow fire building inside of me and I've never, ever felt like this. I know he's done this before, but I also know he feels exactly the same as I do, like this is the first time. Or maybe it's just that it's the first time that really matters.

"Yeah, I do."

"Yeah?" I ask, because I want to keep him talking. Because I like the reassurance.

"Yeah," he breathes out. He scoots back so that his head is on my pillow, chucking the throw pillows on the floor next to the bed. Once again, he fills my bed.

"You should probably ditch the pants, too," I comment, quiet and teasing, but not really.

Resorting to teasing and humor isn't something that I normally do, but with Emmett it feels like just another facet of our relationship. I love that there are so many.

But there's nothing funny about the fire burning brighter, this craving, while I stand at the edge of the bed and watch him unbutton his pants, raising his hips so he can push them off. Tugging at the hem, I help remove them, tossing them at my desk chair. He still has his boxers on, but before crawling up the bed, up _him_, I decide to take my underwear off. After all, removing clothing from the equation is necessary.

Of course, after I do that, I internally freak out. And maybe a little externally too. I'm so... _naked_.

But then he murmurs "fuck" under his breath, his eyes moving everywhere. I can feel them burn my skin. He watches me as I get on the bed and straddle his legs. He pulls me close, my body pressing against his, and says, "God, Rosalie."

It makes me feel good, powerful knowing that I have this effect on him, the same that he has on me. We've been here before: in this bed, in this position, in this state of undress. But everything is different now. The times before were all just practice runs, leading up to this.

His fingers dance along the curve of my hip and I squirm at how it tickles. Quite unplanned, I push against him. His boxers are still there, the only thing that keeps us apart, and we both gasp as he involuntarily strains up. "Holy shit. I can't... I need..."

"More?" It comes out half-question, half-demand.

"You."

I scoot off him and lay on my side, waiting breathlessly as he pushes his boxers down his hips, down his thighs. He kicks at them and I laugh when they get caught around his ankles. He squints over at me, his face a mix of amusement and exasperation and want. I keep my eyes locked with his, but when my hand sweeps down his stomach, I can feel him, warm and straining. The smile tugging at his mouth fades and his hand goes into my hair. He pulls me to him, rolling us so that he's half on top of me. I feel him that way, too, against my hip, and it's so much better.

"You feel so good," I whisper without thinking, running my leg up his.

He groans, dips his head to take my bottom lip in between his and then we're kissing. We've kissed a lot - god, a _lot _- and I thought I knew every kind he had for me: the deep _need you now _kind when things get heated and on the verge of no control; the teasing little bites he gives me when he wants to make me smile; the lingering kind that's all lips, no tongue. But this one is different. It's all of those things and then more, more, one after another after another, until I'm pushing up against him, squirming again, but not because his touch tickles. His hands - in my hair, along my waist, his skin everywhere against mine - feels almost painfully good.

"Rose..." he trails off, pulling back a little so he can look down at me. His hair is everywhere, his eyes everywhere, too. "I want you so much."

I want him, too, so much I can barely breathe. "Do you have..." I trip to a stop. His mouth has slipped to my collarbone and his hand down to my stomach, and the word flies right out of my brain.

"Do I have...?" he repeats, and then he's touching me, and he knows exactly how much I need him. "Oh, fuck."

My hips arch up and he moans into my shoulder and I pant out, "A thing, a thing. A condom."

"A _thing. _Right. Yeah, I have a thing..." His tone is teasing, but hoarse. His hips push against mine. Shaking his head as though he's trying to clear it, he frowns slightly. "Shit, I didn't plan _that _well, at all..." He groans and glances over his shoulder at his pants. "Sit tight, Hale."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," I breathe out, watching as he scrambles off the bed, attempting not to fall in his haste, and reaches into the pocket of his pants. I'm trying not to giggle at his over-eagerness. I succeed when he turns back toward me and I see the expression on his face.

He's back at the edge of the bed so fast. We both stare at each other for a second. The range of emotions I've felt since we got to my house has been vast, but we both know we've been leading up to this moment. My heart swells at the play of emotions on his face. I feel special and beautiful and loved, and I know that this is what you're supposed to feel. It's right. With Emmett, it always is.

Purposefully, he places the condom on the bed next to me. "Don't you need to...?" I start, but I stop talking when he shakes his head and kneels on the bed.

He leans forward, so his face is closer to mine. "Babe, I'm not going to last long. You first." And then he's gone, between my thighs. He's touching me and it feels like he's everywhere. He's outside and inside and he's mine and I'm his. Even though he's done this before, it speaks volumes that in this moment, he's more interested in my needs than in his own. He's that considerate. He's that good.

Soon I'm chanting his name and God's and mumbling incoherent noises, feeling the waves of electricity pulse from where he's touching me outward, so that it spreads throughout my body. I grasp first the sheets and then his hair. "Now, now, now..." I chant. He pulls away instead of getting closer and I open my eyes the tiniest bit when I hear the rip of the wrapper. I want to watch him.

He comes back to me, and my body relaxes once he's where he belongs, our skin pressed together. I can feel him so close, right _there _and instinctively, my hips tilt toward him, ready for him. "Now?" he asks.

I look up at him and we breathe together, and he's perfect. I nod once and he reaches between us, guiding himself to me. Before he's even there, he's whispering words like _holy shit, amazing _and _fucking good_. And my name. He's saying my name a lot, speaking it reverently.

But he loses his words when he slowly pushes into me and groans into my neck, mixing with mine. I lift my hips to his and his hand clamps down, stopping me.

"Just...don't move for a sec," he breathes, pulling back so I can see his face. His jaw is tight, his eyes half-closed. I let my hand drift over his face, down his neck, along his shoulder where the muscles are tight, almost shaking because he's holding most of his weight. He smiles, this beautiful, soft one, and his gaze burns across my eyes, my lips. When he pushes forward slightly, like he's testing himself, the smile goes away but the look in his eyes stays. "I need -"

"More," I whisper, interrupting him. I know he wants to just let go, and I want it, too.

And then he does, starts moving steadily while my hands drift everywhere, everywhere, feeling the muscles in his shoulders and back, wherever I can reach. I want all of him. I push closer and pull him closer at the same time, bring him all around me. He touches my face and my hair, kisses me, breathes against my mouth and then my skin when his face nuzzles into my neck. The sounds he's making - the sounds he's pulling out of _me_– are all around us. I dig my fingers into his warm skin because they're making me crave him in a way that's almost too much. It was never like this before.

I kiss his jaw and then his neck and taste his skin, smiling when he shudders slightly. He reaches blindly for my hand when he starts losing his rhythm and our fingers slip together.

"The way you feel...I'm so close, baby," he whispers hoarsely.

"So good," I gasp, right at his ear. He shivers again as my hips keep moving with his, trying to keep pace, and then he's shaking. His hand tightens around mine so hard that I'm sure he's cutting off circulation. God, but I love the intensity of it and what it means. My fingers could turn blue and I wouldn't care. And every other part of me is flooded with feeling anyway, so I hold onto him until he goes quiet and mostly still, except for a few twitches of his body and soft kisses against my neck.

"Ro." He murmurs my name, one of his hands tickling down my side.

"Mmm?" It's all I can get out. I'm floating, even though I'm kind of pinned to the bed by his hips. Our legs are tangled, my hand still caught in his, and I don't think I ever, ever want to move.

"Am I crushing you?"

"Maybe a little bit," I admit. It feels so good, though, and I miss the weight of him as soon as he rolls off. But now I get to see his face, his ridiculously gorgeous smile. I poke at his dimples and he catches my wrist, kissing the inside of it.

"Be right back, okay?"

I nod, pressing my cheek into my pillow with a grin. He gets up slowly; his hand is the last thing to leave the bed, lingering with mine, and then he's up and grabbing his boxers as he makes his way to my bathroom. I watch him go, feeling sleepy and at the same time wide awake.

_Oh, my god. That just happened_. I press my face into my pillow. I'm starting to ache a little bit, but in a really, really good way.

Emmett comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later and slides onto the bed, scooting in close. He pulls at the blanket at the edge of my bed, draping it over us. I hook my ankles around his and he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. I can smell my hand soap, some expensive French stuff my mom orders online.

"Hi again," he murmurs with a smile.

"Hi again," I echo dumbly. My smile mirrors his, gets bigger when he pulls me closer.

"Thank you," he says. It's silly and sweet and totally right. His expression is hazy, euphoric. I don't think I've ever seen him look as amazing as he does right now.

"Hey, sure. No problem, any time," I joke, but it comes out breathless, and we both laugh softly. I reach up and touch his hair, his face. We lay together in my bed, my head resting on his bicep as I float down from the high of being together without losing the closeness, the intimacy.

"You know, this isn't exactly how I imagined it." His hand winds through my hair and he pulls my head closer to him, kissing my forehead.

"You imagined it?" I whisper into his shoulder.

He pulls back to look at my face. "Um, I've imagined it for a lot longer than I should have, when I had no business imagining." He's quiet for a moment while the weight of his words settles over me. I don't think I would have known what to do with Emmett before this point in my life. Even if Roy hadn't been a factor, I would've talked myself out of it completely, too scared of what other people would say and think. As it is, I know I haven't handled the situation as well as I could have. Or more importantly, _should _have.

He takes a breath and continues, "I wanted to make it special. You know? And...girls like candles and music and stuff. Something. Anything. I just wanted to make the first time that we were together special for you. More than -"

"Emmett, stop." I move my head back to make sure he can see the truth in my expression and words. "It was – it _is_ special because it was _you._And that's all I need because I love you."

And just like that, it's out there. I've said it. It wasn't planned but it was there, floating around us, present in the room without the words being said. And now I _have _said them; there's no taking them back.

Not that I'd want to. I'd never want to.

Because I'm learning that a lot of times, the best things in life don't rely on plans. That there's no explaining or rationalizing emotions. My life has always been planned out for me, and those plans were all I ever knew, all I relied on to get by. But this entire relationship with Emmett was been wholly unexpected. It makes sense that saying this would follow that path. And maybe that's what makes this so perfect, knowing that this is what I really want, without outside influence or expectations. I _do _love him, and tonight only made it bigger, more.

"Yeah?" He grins, like all this time he _knew_ and was just waiting for me to tell him, or to realize.

"Yeah." I don't second-guess. I don't waver. I don't wonder if he'll say it back or if he feels it, too. It feels exactly like it's supposed to. I've said the words to someone else before, but they were perfunctory. "I love you." I say it again, this time with purpose, a statement with no expectation of return. I sit up suddenly, an idea blooming. "I need to get my camera."

His eyebrows raise in surprise as he watches me walk to my desk to grab the camera, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. "Damn Hale, getting kinky? I knew you were a bad girl as soon as I got that cock text."

"There's no fooling you," I say wryly. Climbing back into the bed, I press the power button and hand him the camera. "You have longer arms than I do. Take a picture of us?" He grabs it from my hand, extending his arm. I snuggle into his side with a content sigh, looking up at the camera. The flash is sudden; it practically blinds me. " Wha- I wasn't ready, McCarty! You're supposed to count or something."

"Sorry, my finger slipped. This is what happens when you have the non-photographer take the pictures." I smack his chest and he laughs, rubbing at his pec with his free hand. "Ow, okay, fine. You ready?"

I grin up at the camera, hoping that it captures the elation I'm feeling in this moment: for the night, but mostly about him. I want to always remember this. "Ready."

"Hey, Ro?" he asks, his voice low and almost serious, but light.

"Hmm?" I turn my head toward him. His smile is brighter than the camera's light.

"I love you, too."

_Flash._

The picture ends up being a little blurry and dark, slightly off-centered. But of all the pictures this camera - or any of my cameras - has taken, this is by far the best.

We talk for a while and kiss in between the talking. At one point, I wonder what Jess and Lauren are doing, but Emmett brings me back with his wandering hands and that smile, definitely those lips.

I don't pay attention to the time, content just to lay here with him, have him in my room and my bed. I see his eyes dart to the clock on my nightstand a few times, though, and finally he sighs, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"I should go."

I pull back, frowning. "What? Why? My parents aren't coming home tonight."

"You said they _might _not be home tonight."

"It's almost midnight. If they aren't home by now, I'm pretty sure they won't be home at all." He gives me a dubious look and I press closer, kissing his neck. I feel him sigh. "I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure."

"See, you're using words like _might _and _pretty sure_. It doesn't exactly make me feel confident about getting out of here with my life if I stay."

I roll my eyes. "God, you are _so _dramatic."

"Rose," he says seriously, gripping my face between his hands. His brows are pulled low over his eyes. "Tonight was amazing and if I have anything to say about it, there will be a lot more where this came from. But I can't be with you if I'm dead. And furthermore, I don't want your parents to hate me. I haven't even met your dad yet. If the first time is when I'm in bed with his naked daughter, I think that's going to start us off on the wrong foot."

"Hmph," I grunt out. He squishes my cheeks so my lips puff out and then kisses my mouth.

"I want to stay," he murmurs, smoothing his thumbs over my skin and kissing along my cheekbone, right under my eyebrow, up to my forehead.

"But you want to live more," I sigh.

"Only because I want more time with you. A lot more." He smiles and our lips meet again, long and slow, before he pulls away. I sigh again, propping myself up on an elbow as he saunters over to my desk, picking up his pants. I resist the urge to boo him. "Hey Hale, your phone is blowing up over here."

I jump off the bed with the blanket around my shoulders and trip over my shoes in my haste to get to my purse on the desk. Now that I'm paying attention to something other than Emmett, I can plainly hear my phone vibrating in my purse, just once. It makes me wonder if it's been doing that for a while and I just haven't noticed.

My heart rate picks up as I light up the screen, and then immediately slows down. I have seven texts, but no missed calls or voicemails. Neither of my parents ever text me, so I know it's not them. They're probably partying hard with the Cullens right now, drunk and dancing like I probably would have been with my friends were it not for Emmett.

That means the texts are probably from Jess and Lauren. God only knows the choice words that are waiting for me in those texts. I don't even _want _to know. I'll deal with it tomorrow.

"Parents?" Emmett asks in a wary voice as I let the screen go dark and set my phone back on the desk.

"Jess and Lauren," I correct him, wandering over to my closet. I step inside and dig around for some sleep shorts. "I'm sure they're pissed that I'm not at Mike's with them right now. I'll be hearing all about _that _tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"We're hanging out." I wiggle into a fresh pair of underwear and shorts, then pull a tank top over my head. Emmett's hoodie is hanging between a cashmere zip-up sweater and a slightly horrific designer blouse my mom bought that I've never worn but can't throw away. I smile and pull the sweatshirt from its hanger, folding myself into it. It still smells like him, just faintly along the neck. When I poke my head out of the closet, Emmett is standing in the middle of the room in his dress pants and an undershirt, his white dress shirt unbuttoned over that. "I want to tell them everything. About us, I mean. Get it all out in the open."

One side of his mouth drags up and he nods his chin as I make my way toward him. "You're coming out of the closet," he jokes.

I snort as I lean into him. His arms wrap around me, tight and comforting. "Yeah, well, it's way overdue."

"You nervous?"

"Not to tell them about you and me," I say, looking up at him so he knows that's not what this is about, not at all. "More about how they'll react when I tell them how long it's been going on."

"Do you know what you're going to say?" He asks and starts walking backwards, pulling me against his chest so that we're both propelled into motion, toward the door of my bedroom.

I nod. "I have a general idea. My guess is that I'll probably stay up for a bit, alternating between obsessing over it and thinking about you."

He lets go of me, turning to the stairs. Eric is down the hall, lying in front of my parents' bedroom. I can feel his judgment from here. "How about I call you when I get home so we can talk to sleep? I'll keep your mind off of the obsessing. Or you can practice on me so that you have a better idea."

Trailing him down the steps, I run my hand along the carving of the banister. "That sounds good. If I can't have you here all night, at least I can hear your voice."

"And dream of me," he jokes.

I nod solemnly. "And dream of you. Always."

Pressing the alarm buttons, I look over my shoulder to see him watching me. I can tell that he doesn't really want to leave any more than I want him to go, but we both know it's for the best. And he's right; if my parents do come home, the conniption they'd have would be epic. Because while they chose to turn a blind eye to what Roy and I were doing in my room with the door closed, I don't think they'd look at Emmett with quite the same attitude. Maybe with time, but not at this point.

"So, I guess I should hit the road..." he trails off, looking at me, then the door, then me again.

"Let me walk you to your car, at least," I suggest. I open the door and look back at him over my shoulder and suddenly he's there, easily picking me up in a bear hug. Squealing, I wrap my legs and arms around him. He carries me out of the house, down the steps and the path leading to the driveway, and props me on the hood of his Jeep.

"You're making it _really _difficult to leave, Ro," he mutters.

I press my lips against his, trying to coerce him to stay, even though I know it's selfish. My lips move to his jaw, his neck.

"I should get home and check on Gram too. And if she wakes up and I'm not home -" He stops for a second, breathing hard. "If she... what was I saying?" His hands go to my thighs, creeping up toward my shorts.

I shrug. _Beats me. _I'm only able to focus on his hands and his body being so incredibly close.

We're moving back, closer to being wrapped up in each other again. My legs are tangled around his waist and our lips are nearly touching when it happens.

Headlights, long and low, sweeping across us.

That alone would be easily ignored, but then the sound of car doors opening and slamming vaguely register. Voices. Both of our eyes widen in panic and while I'm sure it's not my parents (the garage door would have gone up) my mind is tripping over itself, trying to figure out who it could possibly be at this hour of the night other than them. Emmett starts backing away and I place my hands on the hood, crossing my legs so it looks like we were just having a conversation. Which we were clearly not.

I look over my shoulder, trying to casually see who's decided to swing by. The Jeep is obscuring my view of the car, but then I hear the voices more clearly, and I know before I see them that it's Lauren and Jessica. My stomach drops to my toes as they appear, power-walking up the driveway, arm in arm.

They come to a sudden halt. Cautiously, they inch forward and I watch them take in Emmett's appearance and mine, their expressions identical and clearly saying, _what the fuck is going on here?_

Finally they speak, in unison. "Holy shit."

* * *

><p>Sorry for the evil cliffie, friends! You know we love you. Wonder how Jess and Lauren are going to react to this scene, hmm?<p>

Jan, Val and JD are our first-aid kit. They fix us up when we need it and we adore them. Thanks, lovelies! And special thanks to Iris who suggested this song way back when for these two kids.

All right, so next week, you and us? We'd love to hear from you in the meantime - we're kind of everywhere with Twitter and Tumblr and Twilighted. We're don't know the meaning of playing hard to get. ;)


	16. Chapter 16 Honest

Chapter 16 - Honest

It takes what feels like forever (but is probably only three seconds) for my brain to unfreeze itself and think about saying something.

Unfortunately, it takes Lauren even less time than that. She opens her mouth before I can make mine work. "What the hell is going on?"

She and Jess stare at me as I slide off the hood of the Jeep, my bare thighs squeaking against the metal. It feels like I'm short-circuiting, like my brain and my heart are flickering on and off and back on again. I feel the zap of energy in my veins, the chill of pure panic running through them.

This is so very, very bad. This is so very, very the opposite way I wanted them to find out about me and Emmett. How can I start from the beginning when they've just walked into the middle of it?

Jess cocks a hip and blinks. "Okay, am I drunk or is that Emmett McCarty standing next to Posie?"

Mike and Tyler amble up the driveway, stopping a few feet behind the girls. Mike, obviously the designated driver, twirls his keys around his index finger and nods his chin toward Emmett. He steps half in front of me, half next to me with a responding nod. Tyler just raises his eyebrows, looking at us in bemusement. I can feel the discomfort from all of them, knowing they're about to get caught in a firestorm of female dramatics.

Lauren rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. "That's Emmett McCarty."

"_And _you're drunk," I reply, my gaze making a sweep of Jess' slightly swaying body from head to toe. "Where are your shoes, Stan?"

"How about you tell us what the hell is going on first, _Posie_?" Lauren demands. "You said you were in for the night. You totally ditched out on the dance without saying goodbye -"

"I said goodbye to Jess and Mike -"

She plows on, undeterred. "- And then you ditched out on Mike's party."

"I didn't _want _to go to Mike's party."

Mike lets out an indignant noise, but cuts it short when I glare impatiently at him.

"No, you obviously wanted to come back to your empty house so you could be with _him_." Lauren jabs her finger toward Emmett.

"His name is Emmett," I shoot back. His finger strokes the back of my arm. I feel its meaning loud and clear: _relax. _But Lauren going on the offensive puts me automatically on the defensive. It's always been like this with us.

"If your parents knew - "

My mouth drops open. "Oh, _you're _one to talk. Does your mom know that those weekly sleepovers at Jess' house are actually at Tyler's, or should I shed a little light on -"

"You guys -" Jess interrupts, tugging on Lauren's arm and looking distraught.

"You lied, Rosalie," Lauren states, ignoring Jess's attempts at playing peacemaker. She doesn't call me Posie or even Rose. She's not full-naming me or saying it snidely. It's so matter-of-fact, like I'm a stranger, and it stalls me momentarily.

"Yeah." I let out a long, slow breath, steeling myself. "Yes, I lied, and I feel shitty about that, for a lot of reasons." I look over my shoulder at Emmett, hoping he knows that I feel worse about how I made _him _feel, before I turn back to Jess and Lauren. "But that's one of the reasons I wanted to hang out tomorrow, to talk about this and tell you everything."

Lauren snorts, shaking her head. "That's really easy to say now, when it's too late."

"Let's go, Mallo," Jess says, pulling at Lauren again. It feels like there's a dividing line between us, like it's me against them, and the realization tugs at my chest. "We'll deal with this later, okay? Everyone's hyped up and we're drunk and I really need to find my shoes, man."

"How long have you been lying?" Lauren's eyes drift over me and I cross one ankle over the other, as if that will make me seem more clothed. "This obviously isn't the first time you're spending time together. I know you're not like that."

"It's been a few weeks, just after school started."

"Just after school started?" Jess repeats. She releases her hold on Lauren, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, my god, Rose, that's over a _month_."

"And here we were feeling sorry for you because Roy was parading Vera around right after you dumped him. Meanwhile, you're sneaking around behind everyone's back."

"I wasn't sneaking," I argue, feeling my blood heat up in my cheeks and my veins. "It's not like that. That's not what Emmett is to me."

"What then, Rosalie?" Lauren throws up her hands, her voice going high. It echoes around the street, seems to bounce off the walls of my house. "You've been hanging out with someone who, excuse me, is kind of random, who we didn't even know you _knew_. And what, you're in a relationship with him? You're obviously having sex with him."

Jess' gaze bounces between Emmett and me and back again. _You are_? she mouths, wide-eyed.

I let out a huff and turn back to Lauren, who's standing there with her arms crossed and a superior look on her face. It sets my teeth on edge. "That's the big reason. _That_'_s _the reason right there I didn't say anything, because of what you just said and the look on your face right now."

She flinches, her angry mask slipping for just a second before she goes all indignant on me again. "Oh, so you anticipated this? How Miss Cleo of you."

My heart is hurting inside of my chest but I keep my face neutral. I'm fired up and all too aware of how different this conversation feels emotionally from the one I had with Jacob. Because, unlike him, I actually care about these people.

"I've known you all my life, Lauren, and I know how you react to things. I wasn't exactly looking forward to this conversation, for obvious reasons."

Lauren rolls her eyes but stays surprisingly quiet, waiting for me to explain myself.

"I mean, at first it was new and I didn't know what we were, so I didn't say anything. I didn't know how to bring it up, you know? And I thought you'd think it was too soon after Roy, especially after everything you said about him and Vera. Then, you were so dismissive of Emmett when he held the door for us last week in class...I don't know, that attitude you threw just turned me off even more." I take a deep breath. "But the longer I went without telling you guys, the worse I felt and...I never meant to hide it, okay? I _was _going to tell you tomorrow."

"It's not even about him, Rosalie, it's about us. No, you know what? It's about you. _You_ lied. _You _made it so much worse than it needed to be." Realization dawns on Lauren's face and she shakes her head, laughing dryly. "God, you were defending him last week and I thought it was so random. Like, who is this guy to her compared to us? Guess it makes sense now, doesn't it?"

"Lauren -"

She snorts. "Whatever. I don't want to hear it."

Grabbing on to Jess' arm, she turns on her heel. They start making their way back to Tyler and Mike, who've both hung back, out of firing range. They've seen us fight before, but this is so obviously different. I try to swallow down the lump in my throat, watching the two of them walk away together, but it's stuck there.

I've felt the loss of them slowly over the past few months, felt us slipping away from each other in tiny increments, but this is so much bigger, too sudden. I never wanted it to be like this between us. And I know that as soon as they're in that car, they'll be talking about it. We've had more post-fight dissections than I care to think about. Only this time, it will be without me. _About _me, which simultaneously pisses me off and makes me feel sick, because they'll get it all wrong.

"Hold up. You're not even going to listen to her?" Emmett speaks up suddenly. I feel one warm hand one curl around my hip and I lean into him, let him support my weight.

Lauren looks over her shoulder. "Excuse me? You don't know anything about us." I swear her voice shakes, but her expression is indifferent, so cold. Jess looks a little green. I'm not sure if it's because of what just happened, or if the booze is finally catching up to her.

"I _do _know Rose is your best friend and she's trying to talk to you here," Emmett replies, his hand tightening on my hip. "Yeah, she messed up, but she's owning up to it. She's trying to make it right. You don't even want to listen to her."

Jess extracts herself from Lauren's grip and goes to Mike, burrowing into his side. He looks over his shoulder at me with a grimace, and then walks his girlfriend back to the Beemer parked crookedly along the curb.

Lauren simply shrugs, backing down the driveway. Tyler takes her hand, pulling her gently, farther and farther away. "Guess she should have thought of that before."

She says the words to Emmett, but she's staring right at me. Tyler whispers something to her. I can only hear the hum of his voice, not the words, but whatever he says makes her eyebrows crash together. She turns suddenly and storms down the driveway with him, yanking her hand away when he tries to take it again.

I watch them leave, watch the tail lights of Mike's car take off down the street and then disappear as they turn the corner.

Everything goes quiet. I don't move. Can't. Not until Emmett reels me into him and then I rest my cheek against his chest, my eyes closing automatically. His arms wrap around me tightly, securely, and I feel my body go limp with exhaustion and what feels oddly like relief. At least now they know. I just didn't want it to be like this.

"It'll be okay, Ro," Emmett says quietly. His warm breath tickles my hair and I press myself closer, needing to feel him, needing to find that calm he always provides.

I don't believe him, but I nod anyway, because I want to. Or maybe I need to.

And then I burst into tears.

**xoxo**

The late morning sun filters into my room. I blink, trying to clear the sleep from my mind and when I do, I feel the heavy lead weight that has settled into my stomach. My hand sweeps the bed next to me and I find my phone, but not Emmett. I knew he'd be gone but I'm still disappointed.

Pressing the button on my phone, I pull up the message icon and tap out a message to Lauren and Jessica.

_Are you guys coming over or should we meet up somewhere?_

Now all I can do is wait.

Emmett came back inside last night, climbed into my bed and promised to stay until I fell asleep. We didn't speak. He just held me against him and pressed his lips to my head while I used him for every source of comfort and light and hope he could provide. Eventually my body and mind relaxed, mainly from exhaustion, and I drifted away.

I can hear my parents moving around the house and the weight gets even heavier, knowing that they'll ask me about last night. I don't want to rehash any of it with them. I know I can't avoid them all day, though, so I make my way down the steps, put on my mask and talk to them like nothing happened instead of everything.

I don't hear from Jess and Lauren all day, even though I send multiple texts. My emotions are all over the map, jumping from sad (_I should have said something earlier to prevent this_) to pissed (_Who are they to judge me? This just goes to show I was right_) to indignant (_If anything, I should be the one upset here, not them_) and back again.

In the middle of the afternoon, I invite Emmett over. He meets my dad, who gives him a too-hard handshake and the third degree until he discovers that Emmett's as big a Titans fan as he is. Emmett's mom's family is from Tennessee and since my dad went to Vanderbilt, they spend the good portion of an hour talking about sports and the South. My mom throws me a wink over Dad's shoulder at one point, which Emmett catches out of the corner of his eye. His dimples flash at me, and I resist the urge to laugh; he knows he's _so _in.

Later, in my room (with the door cracked open - guess he's not _that _in), Emmett handles me with kid gloves, kissing me longer and holding me tighter. He whispers in my ear that he wants to help fix the shit storm that is my friendship with Lauren and Jess right now, to make it better, but I know that as much as he wants to help, this is all me. So I whisper back that he _is _helping me, being here and supporting me. In the past when I had a falling-out with Lauren and Jess, I was alone.

I'm not anymore.

At the end of the day, I send one last text, asking them to meet at the elementary school playground. It's where we sorted out one of our major fights when we were eleven, when a cute counselor from camp, whom both Jess and Lauren were crushing on, gave me a lanyard he made. They were convinced that I was somehow making the moves on this older guy (who was all of sixteen and had no interest in _any_ of us) and refused to speak to me. Actually, _Lauren _refused to speak to me. Jess mediated the playground parley. Apparently some things never change.

Of course, _then _I really had nothing to apologize for. Now I do, and I have, but it's not enough. Maybe it never will be.

About two hours after I send the playground text, I get a message back from Jess. She's always the one who can't stay away, and I know she'll probably be more forgiving than Lauren. It's how it always goes. I know they've been talking, either on the phone or in person, but I don't know what's been said. I imagine it's not good with the short reply I get back.

_Not yet. _

I fall asleep listening to "Fake Plastic Trees," one lyric repeating itself over and over in my head, echoing there:

_If I could be who you wanted all the time._

**xoxo**

Monday morning isn't a welcome one. I feel that weight getting heavier, weighing me down so that my feet drag with every step I take. The feeling of dread is worse than any test anxiety I've ever had. I know what I did was wrong, even if I did have my reasons for it. But their reaction, no matter how much I anticipated and imagined it, hurts more than I could have predicted.

Plus, there's the fact that Homecoming is still fresh on everyone's mind. I walk into school to find that the paper has a picture of Lauren and Jess hugging me at Friday's game, while I had tears in my eyes, as the lead story. Angela told me that they were planning on pushing this edition so they could get pictures from Friday night's game in, but that the dance would be highlighted in next week's. I know there's more to come. Looking at the picture brings more tears to my eyes, and while the reason is different now, anyone who doesn't know me thinks it's for the same. I expect something, anything, from the students who see me. Other than congratulations and people pointing at the paper, giving me fist bumps and high fives, it's quiet.

I walk through the halls feeling utterly alone, my two best friends nowhere to be found. It's clear that while they haven't told anyone else about Emmett and me, they aren't ready to talk to me either. When I get to my locker, they're not there. I have a feeling they won't show up. I rest my forehead against it for a minute, just wishing I knew what to do.

The answer comes from a surprising source.

There's a gentle _thwack _on my head and I look up to find Mike, once again with the rolled up newspaper.

"Chin up, Posie, they'll come around," he says. A small but encouraging smile tugs at his lips as he leans toward me. "Hell, I've already forgiven you for ditching my party. Emmett's a good guy. Bring him around sometime, okay?"

Before I can respond, he slips away, disappearing into the stream of students. I suppose he's not looking for an answer from me. I'm not sure I'd know what to say to him if he did.

I open my locker and root around for my Calc book, trying not to think about how weird this is. I don't think I'd mind being on my own if there wasn't this dark cloud hanging over me, but the silence feels heavy, Jess and Lauren's absence so conspicuous.

There's no one at Emmett's locker, either. I keep looking, expecting him - or any of them - to materialize and save me from my social exile, but everyone apparently has better places to be. Em and I texted this morning (in bed, warm under the covers, at the breakfast table, up until I climbed into my car), but I haven't heard from him since I got here. And for the first time in...god, forever, I feel alone. Not lonely, because I've felt that plenty of times, even surrounded by my friends. Really alone.

But suddenly I feel fingertips ghost along the small of my back, feel a whoosh of cool air move my ponytail. When I look over my shoulder, Emmett's right there, flashing dimples and white teeth and soft eyes at me as he moves past me toward his locker. I'm pretty sure he's doing it out of habit, touching me and then moving on, because we've been playing that game for a month now.

We don't need to do that anymore, though, so my hand shoots out to grab his before he can get too far away from me. He stops, his smile getting bigger, so warm, and he backtracks until he's standing just a few inches away.

I give him a pointed look. He widens his eyes back, going for innocence but landing somewhere closer to impishness. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you," he replies, leaning against the locker next to me. He's wearing his usual uniform of jeans and a hoodie, old beat-up Chucks on his feet. I love the familiarity of him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I think I'm going to my locker." He scratches his head, tilting it playfully when I roll my eyes. "I heard that's where people keep books to learn with. Thought I'd check it out."

"Your sarcasm is precious, McCarty."

"It adds a little something to my charm, I think."

"It's something, all right," I mutter. I duck my head back in my locker. "Wait for me?"

"Always." His fingers curl around the door and I look back over my shoulder, run my finger over the first joint on each of his. I can see his eyes through the metal slats and I can tell, even without seeing the rest of his face, that he's smiling.

The first warning bell rings just as I slam my locker shut. We start walking, side by side, and my hand slips so easily into his. He looks down at our fingers intertwined and then right in my eyes and I feel like I can breathe for the first time since I got here.

Not everything is bad. Even with everything that's going on with Jess and Lauren, I keep remembering what happened between me and Emmett on Saturday night, what we did and what we said. And now, walking down the hall with him, I easily ignore the whispers and the stares. This feels good. Better than good. It feels right.

"You okay?" he murmurs, squeezing my hand. If he's uncomfortable with the attention, he doesn't show it, which just makes me love him more. Besides, this is short-lived. Someone will break up or hook up by the end of the week and Emmett and I will be old news. Such are the laws of high school.

"I am now," I reply sincerely. I can't help scanning the crowd for Lauren and Jess, though. I have no idea where they are.

When Emmett delivers me to my homeroom, the hallway is nearly empty. "You're going to be late for class."

He waves me off, dropping a quick kiss on my forehead. "I have Goff. She loves me. I'll just throw her the dimples and call it a day."

"Do I have to worry about losing you to Mrs. Goff?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

His mouth twists up thoughtfully. "I don't know, those cat sweaters are pretty sexy."

I shake my head with a laugh and when he throws me the dimples, I stretch up on my tiptoes. Goff isn't the only one who can't resist them. My hand goes around the back of his neck and I place a soft kiss on each one, then one right on his mouth. It's quick, but it feels important somehow, because I don't care who sees. I don't care who knows.

I think about his smile, that sweet blush on his cheeks as he walks away, and I know it's what will get me through the rest of this day.

No matter what else happens, I have him, and I know that's real.

**xoxo**

"_So, _Bella..."

"_So, _Alice..."

I'm standing at my locker on Tuesday before lunch; the girls are at 346, speaking in abnormally loud voices.

"I was _thinking _about getting my Etsy shop up and running soon. What do you think about that?"

"Oh, I don't know. I'm _so _indecisive. Maybe I should ask my Magic Eight Ball, just to be certain," Bella replies. I peek through the slats of my locker and watch her throwing glances toward me while tracing the lock on the locker immediately in front of her. "I wonder what the _others _would think..."

It's completely obvious that the volume of the conversation is for my benefit. I find myself smiling inwardly, but try to keep a straight face.

"Well, I know Jasper fully encourages it. Of course, he always encourages me."

Bella chimes in, "And Edward would be on board, clearly, because he said as much yesterday at lunch."

Alice slams the locker door and I listen as she spins the combination once. "Emmett was _strangely missing _from lunch yesterday." She and Bella widen their eyes in mock wonder before she continues, "But I texted him and he said that I should check with his girlfriend before doing it. Isn't it cute that they refer to each other as girlfriend and boyfr -"

I peek my head around my locker, grinning as I interrupt with, "Okay, enough. I get it."

They both lift their heads, blinking innocently. "Oh, _hello, _Rosalie!" Alice trills.

"Fancy meeting you here," Bella adds. I can see the Moleskine I gave her on top of the pile of books hugged to her chest.

"Mmhmm, fancy," I echo. "Sorry I stole Emmett away from you at lunch yesterday." _Not really, though. _I couldn't deal with lunch at school and he seemed to know it without me having to say anything. "We went to visit his Gram and then..." I trail off with a shrug.

Then we had a little repeat of what happened last time in his Jeep on the side of the road. Thankfully, this time neither of us was late getting to English class. It was a little awkward when we walked into the classroom together, though, with all eyes on us.

Alice lowers her voice considerably and looks around, covertly. "Seriously, though. Is this cool? I mean, we know you and Emmett are... out of the closet, or whatever you want to call it, but -"

"But we didn't want to cause any problems since we know your friends are -"

They're talking over each other, and it doesn't escape my notice that they're finishing each other's sentences, cutting one another off in order to make me feel comfortable. "B, I don't think we're _supposed _to know. Emmett just let it slip when he was talking to Edward yesterday-"

"Girls, stop. It's cool." A quick nod of the head and a smile quiets them. "Seriously, all of it. The fact that you know about... my drama," I roll my eyes, "the Etsy thing, everything is cool. You should get moving with the site, Alice. I'd love to help with setting it up."

"We just don't want to create more problems for you right now, Ro," Alice says quietly. Her eyes are no longer on me but rather are looking over my shoulder. I turn to see Lauren slowly walking down the hall, her hand entwined with Tyler's. He's talking but she's not listening. She's just staring at me.

At us.

Actually, it's more of a glare.

I turn back to Alice and Bella, both of them looking anywhere but at Lauren. I can still feel her watching us. "Trust me when I say that you're not the ones making problems for me right now, Al," I say in a low voice, my smile fading. "I'm sad they're acting this way but don't hold up the Etsy site because you think Jess and Lauren are going to be... upset, or whatever. They'll be that way either way, until I can work it out with them."

"Okay, cool. We'll be at Edward's on Thursday for 'the launch,'" she says, employing the use of air quotes. I only wish Jasper were here to see her. "You know, if you're free and interested. I'm hoping to generate word-of-mouth interest, too, so if there's anyone you want to pass the link on to, I'm going to print up little cards."

"So enterprising!" I giggle as she preens. "I'll be there," I affirm, feeling the smile coming back again.

I hear Emmett and the guys making their way down the hall. The three of them approach, boisterous and boy-like, each of them saying hello to us before quieting down, murmuring a special hello to his significant other.

"Nice," Emmett whispers as he dips his head down. I raise my face to him.

"What is?" I ask, even though I already know.

His lips find mine and he kisses me before he speaks again. "Finally having you."

We both smile and straighten, preparing for the next event: lunch. I have a feeling we won't be able to sneak away two days in a row, so I have to figure out what I'm going to do, where I'm going to sit.

God, it really shouldn't be this complicated.

They're conversing around me, Alice telling everyone about the site and what things she plans to lead off with. I pull away, figuring I can take a minute to put myself together.

"I'm going to swing by the bathroom."

They all nod. I know that wherever I sit, they'll be understanding, which can't be said for Lauren and Jess. I have a feeling they'll be mad at me no matter where I go or what I do.

The bathroom near the cafeteria is quiet when I swing open the door. I walk to the nearest sink and place my hands on the edge of it, just staring at the mirror for a minute to breathe. My mind races with possible scenarios that could happen at lunch, but it doesn't prepare itself for what actually _does _happen.

Lauren pushes the door open with what seems like all of her force. It bangs against the doorstop, causing it to make that annoying sputtering noise, the same noise I'm pretty sure my heart is making inside my chest.

"So we're just that easily replaced, huh?"

I catch her eye in the mirror, my eyes narrowing. My voice bounces against the tile walls. "Excuse me?"

"I saw you with Alice and Bella in the hallway," she replies. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her nostrils flared. "What, did Edward give you tips on how to ditch your old friends for new ones at Homecoming or something? He'd know a lot about that."

I whirl around, mirroring her pose. "Hey, speaking of ditching, where have _you _been for the past two days? Or did you just not get my texts?"

"I got them," she says, like she doesn't give a shit.

My hands shoot out, palms up to the ceiling. "And?" I exclaim, because I most definitely _do _give a shit.

"And what?" Everything about her screams _judgment _- the way her hip juts out, her narrowed eyes, even how her lips press together into a thin line. "I saw everything, Rosalie, and I can put the rest of the pieces together. Anything else you have to tell me is just excuses."

"What are you talking about, excuses? I've been honest about -"

"About _what_, Rosalie?" she shoots back, finally losing the indifferent attitude. Her face contorts into an angry glare. "What exactly have you been honest about? I'm dying to know. You sure as hell weren't honest about Emmett. And the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get, because you lied about Roy, too. I had to hear from Tyler that you guys broke up, and you just let me and Jess believe that he was the one who broke up with you."

"I did tell you, because you guys wouldn't just let it go. I didn't give a shit, Mallo! If he wanted to save face by telling the world he broke up with me, then fine. What did it matter if I did it or if he did it?"

The door creaks open and we both whirl toward it. The girl coming in, a freaked-looking freshman with large eyes that get even bigger when she sees what she's walked into, stops short.

"It's occupied," Lauren and I snap in unison, but the door swings shut before we even finish our sentence.

Lauren turns her glare on me, and I glare back. I'm annoyed that she thought to say it, too. It started when she, Jess and I locked ourselves into Tyler's bathroom during his 13th birthday party. It was right before Lauren and he got together and he'd been paying special attention to Mike's cousin Maggie all afternoon, who was older and gorgeous and visiting from Seattle. Every time someone would knock on the door, Jess and I would yell out "it's occupied!" while Lauren cried and ranted. Over the years, it became an inside joke, something we'd shout out when we wanted it to be just three of us, no interruptions.

"It does matter," Lauren continues, breaking me out of the memory. "You were together for three years. _Three years_, and then all of a sudden you're done without talking to us about it. It came completely out of left field, like you were happy and then you weren't."

"It wasn't out of left field for me."

"Well, it was for us." She pauses and then adds snidely, "And Roy, apparently."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know I needed to ask your permission before I made decisions about my life," I shoot back, just as snide.

"What the hell else are best friends for?"

I throw my hands up, even though I want to wrap them around her neck and shake her. "I don't know, to support me? They definitely don't rub their best friend's mistakes in her face. They don't ignore her for days and days and then throw attitude because she's not sitting in a corner, just waiting for them to forgive her."

"Well, you're definitely not doing that." Lauren gives me a fake-sweet smile, and I roll my eyes. "Seems like you've got yourself a great little set-up, Rose."

It's like talking to a brick wall, which is so quintessential Lauren. When she doesn't want to hear the truth, she shuts down. I know we're not going to get anywhere right now, except maybe into a cat fight, and I'm not about to get my favorite shirt dirty.

"You know what? I'm not going to do this with you. I'm so over this shit, Lauren." I shift my bag to the other shoulder and start to back away. "You can come get me when you're ready to discuss this like a normal person."

Her mouth drops open as she takes a step toward me. "_Normal person_? How about you let _me _know when you've gotten rid of the pod person that's taken over my best friend? All of a sudden you're dating Emmett McCarty and working on the school paper, ditching out on Mike's parties and acting like winning Homecoming Queen was such a burden, boo fucking hoo. What the hell is going on with you?"

"I'd tell you, but you obviously don't want to want to listen. So when you do, you can come get me. And feel free to pass this message on to Jess, too, since I'm sure you're going to give her the play-by-play anyway."

And with that, I really am done. Turning on my heel, I march toward the door. I'm literally vibrating with anger, my blood boiling, my head swimming with all the things I should have said, want to say, all of the things that she won't want to hear anyway.

"You've changed," she calls after me.

I stop at that, my hand flat on the bathroom door. When I turn around, she's still rooted in the same spot. I see the anger on her face, but I see something else too. I just don't know what it is - fear? Hurt? Maybe both.

I shake my head, trying to keep the anger and push down the sudden sadness I feel. It's easier to be pissed at her, at them, for shutting me out like this. The hurt would be worse. "_Things _have changed. I'm still me."

We stand like that, her in the middle of the bathroom with her arms crossed, me with one foot out the door, and after a minute I realize that neither of us are going to break. It's always been like this for us, every fight. Only it used to be over who got the best Barbie or the biggest brownie, with Jess in the middle to break the tie. As we get older, the stakes get higher.

They've never felt this high before.

Finally, I push the door open and walk out, leaving Lauren there. When I get to the cafeteria, I know exactly where to go. I catch Jess's eye as I walk in. She frowns, her gaze darting behind me, and then slowly turns in her seat. Mike lays his arm across the back of it and pulls her close. Thankfully, Roy is nowhere to be found. One less pissed-off person to deal with.

I make my way to a different table, a new one, and slip into the empty seat waiting for me. I take a deep breath. The conversation doesn't stop when I sit down, but Edward shoots me a wink and a sympathetic smile as Bella squeezes my knee. Jasper drums his hands on the table to announce my arrival as their "esteemed guest," which makes Alice roll her eyes and huff out teasingly, "Can you behave for a second, Jas? She'll never sit with us again."

And Emmett...Emmett drags my chair closer and kisses my temple when I get close enough to reach. He puts his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers drawing little circles on my skin while he does a disturbingly spot-on impression of Coach Clapp. I know I'll be telling him about what happened in the bathroom later, but for now we don't talk about it, not even when Lauren storms past us. His hand just drifts down to my tensed shoulders, his fingers kneading the tension away.

Yes, things _have _changed. And even though I still feel a certain heaviness knowing things between me and Jess and Lauren are shittier than ever, I can't find it in me to be sad about that.

* * *

><p>You all were wonderfully understanding about where we left off last week - just another reason you're the best! Thanks for continuing to give us love through alerts, favorites, and reviews. We absolutely love them.<p>

Special thanks to Jan for getting this to us even though Mother Nature was unleashing her fury all along the eastern seaboard. That's dedication! We love you, J. And as always, much adoration to JD and Val, who hopped on this train o' crazy early on and have inexplicably stayed. You guys are our caboose. That sounded better in our heads. You know what we mean.

More next week! See you all soon. :)


	17. Chapter 17 Tik Tok

Chapter 17 - Tik Tok

I continue to get the freeze-out from Lauren and Jess all week. After the showdown in the bathroom, I expect something more from them. Anything, even some tiny acknowledgement that this iciness won't last forever. Instead, I get the cold shoulder and indignant hair flips from Lauren. Jess isn't as bad, unsurprisingly. I can tell from the sneak peeks she keeps throwing in my direction that she'd like to approach me. But every time it looks like she might possibly come over, Lauren's right there, pulling her in the other direction.

Not to mention Roy and the douchebrow he throws me any time we're in the same general vicinity. It's particularly bad at the honor society meeting on Tuesday. He sits in the back, slumped in his seat, and alternates between lazily twirling his pen between his fingers and glaring at me. Granted, I'm at the point where I've said everything I need to and I've moved on, but it's slightly off-putting while I'm trying to share the information about the fundraiser we're doing.

So I do the only thing I can: I go about my business. I sit next to Lauren and Jess in English, because how can I explain to Berty that my best friends are being bitches? We aren't exactly there to socialize, even if we normally do. I've never seen Lauren pay such close attention in class, although maybe it's just her working extra hard not to make eye contact with me. Either way, I'm sure Berty appreciates the silence.

Beyond that minor interaction with them, I spend the majority of my time with Emmett and his crew. I know they can all tell that it's bothering me more than I'm letting on, but I've got so many positive things in my life that I'm trying really hard to silence the negative. Hopefully they'll come around soon. In the meantime I'm done trying to talk, only to be shot down.

Emmett, on the other hand, keeps doing ridiculously sweet things that help take away the sting of my friends' rejection.

They also make me want to jump him.

I know that some of his motivation is to compensate for Jess and Lauren's hurtful behavior but the rest is just...him. How he is. He doesn't really need to do _anything_ to make me want him more, because I don't think that there's any possible way that I _could_. But still, he does little things that mean the world to me. Even though I'm with him nearly all the time, he somehow manages to covertly drop notes in my locker, like we did when we first started talking. He writes out song lyrics or the away schedule for football games with _Wanna scream my name louder, Hale? _scrawled across the bottom.

Thursday after school, we go to Edward's house to help Alice set up her Etsy site. And by _we_, I mean Alice, Bella and I sit in front of the computer and do everything while the guys screw around in Edward's room. At one point, Emmett takes my Calc notebook from my bag and starts scribbling away. He refuses to let me see, shielding the paper with one big hand, and tells me I'll have to wait for my "top secret message" until I get home.

"It's porn," Jasper says around the granola bar jammed in his mouth.

"Stick figure porn," Alice adds. Her eyes are glued to the computer as she uploads a picture of me in a wrap-around scarf, so she misses Emmett's middle finger and Jasper's adoring smile.

I find out later, when I flip open my notebook to get started on my homework, that the porn is actually a ridiculous caricature of me and Emmett shaking hands while simultaneously eating cake, an obvious ode to our early days. It's hard to tell because he's a _horrible _artist, but it looks like we're in Edward's backyard. My laughter brings both Eric and my mom up the stairs to check on me. Eric barks for a good five minutes.

After they leave I take a picture of myself, Emmett's drawing right next to my face, although a little cleavage slips in there, too. _Totally _accidental, of course. I send the picture to him and add, _Very clever, McCarty. _

I get his message almost immediately. _Sorry, who sent this to me? Rosalie or Rosalie's boobs? _

_Way to be a pervert_, I type back with a laugh. I keep it quiet this time, because the last thing I need is for my mom to come back up the stairs right now.

_You love me_, he responds.

I grin, curl my toes into my comforter and write back, _I do. _

**xoxo**

The rest of the week passes by without incident - or any word from Jess or Lauren. By Saturday, I'm resigned to the fact that I might not hear from them at all. Lauren can hold a grudge like no one's business, and I'm not convinced that Jess will defect. At this point, she's more closely tied to Lauren than she is to me, has more in common with her, not the least of which is that Tyler and Mike are best friends, too. I'm starting to go in a different direction, and I know I made a mistake not telling them that. Friendships have died over much less.

I try not to think about how sad that makes me as I'm driving to the DAR for bingo, but it stays with me. And it pisses me off, too, because I've reached out and they're not reaching back. What does that say about _them_?

I can only stew in my anger and sadness for so long, though, because Emmett surprises me by showing up on my doorstep later with two bouquets of hydrangeas in hand. He's wearing an adorable smirk and I pull him inside, shutting the door behind us with my foot. We talked earlier, when he dropped Gram off at bingo, but he said he was going to be tied up all afternoon. I wasn't expecting to see him until dinner with Gram tonight.

"I thought you were doing yard work for your neighbors," I say as he hands me one of the bouquets. I weave my fingers through his and reel him in until we're nearly touching.

"Finished early. The rain sort of helped with that." He snakes an arm around my waist, closing the gap between our bodies, and I wrap my arm around his shoulders, holding my bouquet behind his neck. I stretch up as he leans down, our mouths meeting in the middle for a soft, slow kiss.

"_And _you brought me flowers," I murmur against his lips.

"I _did_. And not just any flowers; those are McCarty/Connolly flowers," he answers.

"Hmm, never heard of that florist," I tease.

He tilts his head back so he can see my face. "I picked them from the yard. Gram helped me wrap them. Oh, and she asked me to remind you about dinner tonight. I told her that you wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Answering for me?" I ask and he nods, slow and lazy. "I like it when you do."

His lips are just below the lobe of my left ear when he speaks, his breath warm. "Really? Because I get this strange vibe from you that says you're all feminist, _no man speaks for me _type."

"Well, you're not just any man. I think I can let it slide."

God, he's killing me with his voice and his hands and those lips. I wonder what he'd do if I just wrapped my legs around his hips. Well, I _know_ what he'd do. I'm fairly certain from the look he's giving me that he wouldn't complain, but we're standing in my front foyer so I repress the urge. Instead, we stand pressed together for a few seconds before I remember the other bouquet he's holding against my hip.

Peering down at them, I raise an eyebrow. "And those are for..."

"Your mom. I figured she might like them too," he says, filling in the blank.

_Of course. _Shaking my head, I chuckle. "Oh, you _are _good with the moms. She'll eat this right up."

He pulls away from me so he can puff out a breath on his knuckles and polish them against his shirt. "I told you, Rose, I have a rep to protect with the moms."

His impish grin makes me smile, too. "Yeah, well, speaking of moms...she's not home right now. Dad either."

The grin widens, his expression morphing from impish to sexy. "They're not, huh?"

"Nope. Won't be back for hours." I drag out the last word, turning away from him. I cast a coy look over my shoulder, and let it linger as I watch him place the flowers for my mom on the table. When I see that he's a few steps away, I switch tactics, bounding up the steps. "Race you to my room," I call over my shoulder, thinking that somehow, some way, I can possibly beat him there.

He's on my tail in about a half second, though, and gently tackles me at the top of the steps. We lay there, spread out on the carpet, until he flips me over. I stare up at the ceiling, breathless and grinning. He's got me completely pinned.

"That's how it's gonna be, Hale?" I feel his fingers creeping up my sides and I try to squirm away, but I'm barely moving anywhere. The kid is ridiculously strong. "So where's your ticklish spot, anyway? I need to know these things, as your boyfriend. Important information." His fingers dig into my sides, at the curve of my waist. "I'm guessing it's right here."

I bite my lip in an attempt to not even give him the satisfaction of a smile, let alone a giggle, but it doesn't work and soon I'm howling and begging for mercy. I employ all of the tactics I can think of: threats, name calling, yelling for Eric to come save me. He just trots over and looks at us curiously before running back into my parents' room. _Damn dog._

Finally I say, "I'll love you forever if you'll stop."

The tickling immediately stops and I open my eyes to find him right there, his face hovering above mine. "Deal." Instead of kissing me, like I think he's going to, he jumps up and grabs my flowers before crossing the threshold of my room. He's doing this ridiculous dance, crossing his hands over his knees before he crooks his finger towards me. "I win! Victory is mine."

I really do jump on him then, wrapping my arms behind his neck and my legs tightly around his waist. And I collect that kiss he was holding out on, along with so much more.

**xoxo**

"Ah, the lovely Rose," Gram says as she opens the door wide. She threads her arm through mine and pulls me into the living room. "Did I tell you that I had a very dear friend growing up named Rosalie?" She leans in toward me to whisper, "She was nowhere near as lovely as you, though."

Emmett mocks being offended as he trails us into the living room. "Great to see you too, Gram," he says, as we make a show of ignoring him. He holds the box of cannolis we picked up at the bakery over his head so neither of us can reach them. "I guess these cannolis are all mine then."

Gram is undaunted. "Don't worry, Rosalie. I've got snickerdoodles cooling in the kitchen for after dinner and the roast is nearly done. I've had it in the Crock-Pot all day. We can share that, you and I." She attempts a wink at me, before shuffling into the living room and sitting on the couch in the corner. The side table holds her cup of tea and some pill bottles. I notice that she's changed from the clothes she wore at the DAR - a soft periwinkle suit with costume jewelry - into more comfortable home clothes and her slippers.

Emmett groans and rubs his stomach with his free hand. "Oh Gram, you play dirty."

"Where do you think you learned all your tricks?" Gram raises an eyebrow at the cannolis and he slowly lowers the box, putting it on the table. She ruffles his hair when he sits down next to her on the couch, pulling me into the empty spot on the other end. "What did you kids find to do today in this gloomy weather?"

I try not to look at him but I'm sure we're both blushing, thinking about what we did in my very empty house for the past few hours. Not exactly anything we can share with Gram, that's for sure. My mind races and we both blurt out answers simultaneously.

Of course, they're two completely _different _answers, because we didn't think to discuss this previously.

"The mall -"

"The movies -"

Gram gives us each a hard look and echos, "You went to the mall _and _the movies _and _got the cannolis?" They happen to be absolutely nowhere near each other. She presses her lips together. "That must have been a very short movie."

"Uhhhh. Yeah." Emmett's lying skills are horrendous and I'm not much better, staring at the carpet and counting the threads. Besides, I've had enough with secrets for a while, so I choose silence instead.

Gram hums softly, totally not buying it, but she lets the subject drop. Thankfully. "Oh, I was about to take out the garbage from the kitchen when you kids came in. Let me go do that before I forget," Grams says and starts to push back up, off the side of the couch and Emmett's leg.

"Gram, no. It's raining out there. I'll get it," Emmett says, stopping her.

She gives him the stink-eye. "I'm not made out of sugar, Emmie. I won't melt from a little rain," she says and tries to grab his hand but he's too fast for her.

"Oh, I know you're not made of sugar, Gram. Just relax and chat with Ro." He's already started for the kitchen, and I try not to throw him my own stink-eye because I'm afraid our "chat" might lead back to my and Em's movie-mall excursion. I turn to Gram and open my mouth to speak, thinking I can bring up the safe topic of the flowers. But then Emmett pipes up again, his voice floating in from the kitchen. "Gram? There are some blue pills on the counter, just hanging out. Are they supposed to be in your sorter? Do you -"

Her eyes widen and I can tell from her expression that she forgot about them. Of course, he can't see that. "Dear, just bring those in here. I'll take them with my tea."

I look up as Emmett enters the room and I can tell that he's masking his true feelings. The ease of his gait has shifted to something that's not natural, not him, and his dimples are gone. I glance at Gram to see if she notices, too; if she does, she says nothing. Em simply drops the pills in her outstretched hand before dropping a quick kiss on her head. "I'll be right back," he says, gesturing to the trash bag.

While he's outside, I watch as she picks up her tea, the cup and her hand shaking slightly as she raises it to her puckered lips. She swallows the pills with the liquid, and then sets down the cup before looking over at me thoughtfully. "He's a good boy, my Emmie. He's been quite sweet on you for a long time."

I blush, unsure what to say. The Rosalie she knows from the DAR bingo is different than Posie or even the girl who Emmett's fallen in love with. It's hard to explain that. So I settle for, "I've noticed him for a long time also."

She reaches her hand across the couch toward me and I stretch mine to her. "I'm glad the two of you finally found your way to each other." She squeezes harder than I would have thought possible.

I see Emmett through the window, jogging up the path as the rain starts driving down harder. "I'm glad, too."

**xoxo**

After dinner, I find myself in my favorite place: Emmett's arms. We're in his room under the guise of working on our English assignment for the following day. Instead, he's holding me tight. I can tell something is bothering him; he's been uncharacteristically quiet for too long. I'm about to ask what's going on when he speaks.

"I worry about Gram."

"I know you do. I worry about her, too." I turn my head so I can look into his eyes, darker tonight. I can plainly see the concern there. This is what he needs me for. I want to be needed, want to be here for him and make it better.

"Those pills on the counter..."

"She forgot to take them. I could tell she didn't want you to make a big deal."

He's quiet for a beat. "It _is _a big deal, especially since it happened a few weeks ago, too."

I nod. We both know it is and I'm certain she does, too. She just doesn't want to make Emmett worry. _Too late for that, _I think, smoothing away the crease between his eyebrows.

His eyes drift over my face as he brushes a piece of hair that's fallen over my forehead. "She's got a doctor's appointment on Tuesday after school. I'm going to take her, since I don't have practice. I'll be able to talk to the doctor then..." he trails off, sounding almost unsure.

He'll be there for his grandma, but who will be there for _him_? I'm sure it can't be easy to deal with an ailing grandparent all by himself.

I clear my throat and venture, "I don't think I have anything going on then, if you want me to come with?"

"Yeah, I want you." His response is fast, relieved, but he adds just as quickly, "if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," I assure him. "I'm here for you and Gram, Em, whatever you need."

His fingers dance up and down my spine absently as he sighs. "It's just...I love Gram, and it's not like I don't want to do this for her. I do. I want her to be okay. But sometimes it's hard to do all this alone. I feel responsible for her, you know? If anything happens to her, it's on me."

He stops again, and I wish I could get closer somehow, even though we're already completely tangled up in each other. My hand moves along his back, working at his tense muscles, and I feel them melt under my touch, feel his nose against my temple and his breath against my skin.

"It'll be okay. You'll talk to her doctor on Tuesday. I'm sure he's dealt with this before and will have some advice on how to make it easier for you _and _Gram." I pause, pressing my fingers against his back lightly in what I hope is a reassuring way. "You'll get it all worked out."

"I know." He takes a deep breath, and I feel the corners of his mouth curl up when he presses it to my forehead. I sense he wants to steer us away from the subject when he says, "You're starting to sound like me, Hale."

I laugh into his neck. I've lost count of how many times he's told me the same thing over the last week. I'm sure he's probably lost count, too. But I'm starting to understand this is what you do when you really love someone. He's been here for me, telling me everything will straighten itself out in one way or another. He's shown me that it will be, and now it's my turn. It's almost overwhelming, knowing I'm the one who can do that, who can be that person for him.

"Well, I was taking notes on how to be awesomely supportive," I reply.

He pulls back with a grin. "Am I awesomely supportive?"

"And wise."

"I _am _pretty wise, you're right." He brings me close again, his arms tightening around my waist. I feel safe, cocooned, like nothing bad can reach me. "Keep going."

I press my ear against his chest, listening to the rumble of his soft laughter, the steady beat of his heart. "A man among boys."

"Hey, can you relay that message to Jasper when you get a chance? He called me a pussy bitch the other night."

"What the hell is a pussy bitch?"

"No fucking clue. He said it while I was spanking him in Call of Duty at Cullen's house, though, so I'm sure that had something to do with it."

"I think that's just his way of being affectionate. It's like 'I love you' in boy speak."

He snorts and I smile, but thinking about Emmett's friendship with Jasper and Edward makes me think of mine with Jess and Lauren. I wonder what they're doing now, if they're hanging out together. It's weird, thinking of them without me and me without them, even though I really can't imagine being anywhere but here with Emmett right now.

He's quiet for a minute, until he ducks his chin to catch my eye. "Hey."

"Hi," I murmur, smiling wryly when his eyebrows raise.

"Where'd you go?"

I shake my head. "Nowhere. I'm right here."

He doesn't look convinced. "You didn't hear from Jess or Lauren today, did you?"

"You would've heard if I'd heard, trust me," I sigh.

"I really think they're going to come around, Ro."

"I don't know," I say, unconvinced. "We've had fights before, but they've never lasted this long. Usually one of us breaks, but I don't want to be the one to do it for this. I know I messed up. I _admitted _I messed up, and if that's not good enough for them, then I don't know what else I can do. It's kind of up to them at this point, you know?"

I can feel myself getting worked up again, and because my body's pressed so closely to Emmett's, he can, too. He rolls us so I'm on my back, my arms trapped between his elbows on either side of me. He looks down at me with serious eyes and this adorably furrowed brow.

"You're going to get through this. With any luck, they'll pull their heads out of their asses -"

"I think Jess's is actually up Lauren's at the moment, but continue."

"Feisty, I like that," Emmett says with a laugh and kisses me, quick and squarely on the mouth, before continuing on. "Like I was saying, hopefully they'll figure their shit out and you'll get to clear the air. But if not, you've got me. And I'm a packaged deal - you get Ali, Bella, Jasper and E, too. I'm not saying they'd replace your friends or anything, but you're not alone."

"I love you," I whisper, feeling like my heart is growing too big for its place in my chest. "Thank you for putting up with all of this."

His mouth descends to mine again and we kiss this slow, deep kiss that makes me dig my feet into his comforter and my fingers into his shirt. When he pulls away, his cheeks are pink. Rain starts tapping softly against the window.

"It's not putting up with it, Rose. I'd do anything for you," he whispers back. I want to tell him that I'd do the same, but he silences me with another kiss, and then another and another, and I know that he knows anyway.

**xoxo**

When I wake up in the morning, I'm feeling nothing like P Diddy. Or at least, I don't think that P Diddy ever had his two supposed best friends standing over him, staring, at nine in the morning. But hell, what does Ke$ha know anyway? She brushes her teeth with Jack.

I grasp my blanket, holding it to my chest, and will my heart to slow the fuck down. "Holy shit! A little warning might -"

Mom's voice floats up the steps at that very moment. "Rosalie, the girls are here."

"Yeah, thanks for the heads up, Mom." I admit my level of snark is high when I yell back, but _Jesus. _

"Of _course, _sweetie! Let me know if there's anything else I can help you with," she calls back, her tone matching mine.

I am my mother's daughter, of that there is no doubt.

I turn back to Jess and Lauren, who are standing at the end of my bed. Lauren's arms are crossed over her chest and Jess has Eric cradled in hers like he's a baby. He's looking up at her adoringly, the traitor, but both Jess and Lauren's gazes are fixed on me. We all stare at one another for a minute. Now that I've gotten over the shock of them being here when they've been decidedly _not _here this entire week, the surprise is wearing into annoyance.

I'm not much of a morning person anyway, and having my estranged best friends standing over me right when I wake up isn't helping things.

Plus, I'm not wearing pants.

They, on the other hand, are wearing plaid pajama ones, the kind that I have at least half a dozen pairs of in my drawer. It looks like they rolled out of bed and immediately drove here. In every other way we look so similar - our hair pulled into messy buns on top of our heads, the Tiffany toggle bracelets we all begged for when we were fifteen. Mine tinkles delicately as I push myself up into a sitting position.

"Well, by all means. Make yourselves at home." I cautiously pat the bed and they sit.

Lauren cuts straight to the chase, her tone all business, a little cold. "So here's the thing, Rosalie -"

"Lauren, I told you to go in easy, for god's sake," Jess interrupts, smacking her. I assume she's going for Lauren's arm, but she overshoots and hits her boob instead.

"_Ow_, asshole," Lauren yelps.

"I'm sure your boob's felt worse," Jess mutters, rolling her eyes.

Lauren throws her a dark look. When Jess stays silent, she widens her eyes and waves her hand in the air. "Well, go ahead. I obviously fucked it up for you, Stan."

I raise one hand and pull my comforter up to my chest with the other, crossing my legs. I try not to be annoyed that they talked about this beforehand and came up with some sort of plan to confront me, but it spreads through my voice. "Hey, how about you cut the strategy since it doesn't seem to be working for you and just _talk _to me? That's why you're here, right?"

Jess and Lauren exchange a look, have a silent conversation, and for a moment I feel like maybe we won't be able to repair this. Like in the week that we haven't been talking, they've forged some kind of super bond that I won't be able to penetrate now. I feel like an outsider, which I've felt to some degree over the years, but not in such a major way.

While I wait for them to decide whatever it is they're deciding through eye blinks and eyebrow raises, I think about the conversation I had with my mom when I got home from Emmett's last night.

Or rather, the guilt trip she gave me. It started with, "You know, I haven't seen the girls here recently..." She'd trailed off expectantly, wanting me to fill in the blanks.

"We've all been busy," I said with a shrug, attempting to brush the statement off. I didn't want her to get involved. It would make the situation that much more irritating and convoluted, because knowing her, she'd get Jess and Lauren's moms involved, too, and somehow things would get twisted. The blame would be put fully on me. Historically, things only got worse if the three of us brought our mothers into the mix.

If this was going to be fixed, we were going to have to do it ourselves.

Of course, this didn't stop Mom from following me up to my room, reminding me that they were my oldest friends in the world and reciting some random poem from our days as Brownies about making new friends but keeping the old.

"Mom, it's fine," I finally said, interrupting her. She stopped just outside the threshold of my room, her hands clasped in front of her. It was late by that point, close to midnight, but she was still wearing makeup, still dressed in pearls and linen pants. It occurred to me then that I rarely saw her any other way. "Just drop it, okay?" I asked, softening when I saw a brief flash of hurt cross her features.

She smoothed them out quickly, though, shrugging delicately. "I just don't want you to drift away from them because of a boy, Rose. Emmett's very nice and I can tell he adores you, but don't forget about your friends. They've been there for you."

I'd opened my mouth to say that _I_ wasn't drifting away from _them_. All of the instances of them _not _being there for me raced through my mind. But it had seemed like an invitation for more conversation and I was tired of conversation. I wanted to crawl into bed and text Emmett good night and then dream of his lips and hands and how he made everything good and right.

But now, watching Jess sigh and look over at me, the same hint of hurt in her eyes, I wonder if that's what they think, too. If they feel like with Emmett in my life now, there won't be any room for them.

"Just tell us," Jess says, scratching at Eric's head. His eyes close; he's blissfully unaware of what's happening around him.

"Tell you what?"

"Everything," Lauren replies.

And so I do. I tell them about my growing feelings of discontent over the summer. I replay the night I broke up with Roy in the driveway. I tell them how light I felt afterward, how _relieved_. I describe how disconnected I was, like I didn't belong in my life anymore. How dishonest I felt, not just with them, but with myself.

When I get to the part with Emmett, I'm guarded at first. I tell them everything, though. They exchange looks a couple times - when I tell them about ditching out on Mike's birthday party early to go to Edward's and especially when I replay my slightly flawed logic in bringing Edward to Homecoming - but stay quiet. They let me talk. More importantly, I think they hear me. I don't know if that's always been the case, but there must be something in my expression or my voice that lets them know this is different.

"So I take it this is serious?" Lauren asks. She's been concentrating on picking free a loose thread on my comforter, but when she says this, her eyes bounce up to me. Her tone and expression don't give anything away.

My smile does, I'm sure. "Yes."

Jess leans back into Lauren, letting out a long breath. "God. Why didn't you trust us with all of this, Posie?"

"I didn't know what it was at first, you know? And then by the time I _did _know what it was, I wasn't sure you'd understand. We've had this...I don't know, this formula for our lives that we never questioned. Wear these clothes, date this boy, get good grades and be popular. But there was all this other stuff I was pushing down. I don't want to do that anymore, and I'm sorry for not talking to you guys about it, but I'm not sorry for anything else."

We're all quiet then and I can tell that Lauren is processing everything I've said while Jess... well, Jess looks like she's done processing and is dying to _say _something.

Which she does. A lot of something.

"Can I just say that Emmett is, like, a total upgrade from Roy? I mean, I don't know about personality or anything but Roy's always been sort of a stick in the mud, so I'm assuming that he's an upgrade in that department. And Roy's good-looking and all, but let's talk for a second about Emmett's body. _God_, his body -"

"Stan!" Lauren interrupts. I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. This is _so _quintessential Jessica Alison Stanley.

"No, really!" she presses on. "I was waiting for Mike outside the locker room one day after practice and Emmett walked by without his shirt, all hot and sweaty from drills or something. Hot sex on a platter, let me tell you." She's fanning her face with one hand and Eric's listening to her intently, cocking his head to one side. "I'm pretty sure I had drool going and then I had to pretend like there was nothing going on when Mike walked out of the locker room." She says this like she was asked to save the world's problems and she just _didn't know how._ "But then Emmett walked out like a few seconds later and I was like-"

"Jessica! Do you ever stop? We get it. Posie's new boyfriend is hot." Silence blankets the room for another moment, and then Lauren pushes off the bed and announces, "I'm bored." The comment stings and the realization hits me hard, just how much I care. Her eyes meet mine and she softens it with, "We'll talk more tomorrow, before homeroom?" But then she tacks on, "If you're not too busy."

It's like she's back and forth, hot and cold, Lauren and Mallo.

Confusion and hurt reflect in her eyes, though, and I wonder if this has been hard for her, despite the act she's putting on. She's not always the best at expressing her emotions. Probably because a lot of times, she doesn't know what they are. And I know it's _not_ that she's bored, but rather her way of getting out of this situation. She needs more time, especially after everything that I just told them.

"I'm never too busy, Lauren. Seriously."

Her nod is short, almost like she doesn't believe me. I sigh as she starts wandering toward the door. "Jess, you ready?"

Jess is slow to follow. She takes her time standing, leaning forward to hug me before kissing Eric on his head, depositing him on my bed. She pauses, ignoring the impatient look that she's getting from Lauren. "Does Eric like Emmett?"

I raise an eyebrow, wondering about the relevance of her question. "Actually, yeah... he does."

"Animals have an intuitive sense for good people, you know," she says sagely.

I nod slowly, eyes wide.

Lauren rolls her eyes. "Oh, god. Come on, Stan." She takes her hand and pulls her toward the door but Jess lags back.

She spots the picture of Emmett and me that I have tucked into the frame of my mirror and points with her free hand. She turns and mouths to me, "_So _hot, oh my god."

I press my lips together, trying not to giggle. "Yeah, he is," I mouth back.

After Jess pulls the door shut behind them, I settle back onto my pillows and smile up at the ceiling. I know it's not entirely perfect, but still, I feel lighter, the weight of that conversation finally lifted.

I have no more secrets.

* * *

><p>We've picked up a lot of new readers the past couple of weeks and we want thank all of you for spreading the word about our story. Ruby_Wednesday, SweetLolaPop and AlbyMangroves have especially big mouths (heh) and we are very appreciative of them!<p>

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Review and we'll love up on you, maybe make up a song about you or something. You never know. ;)


	18. Chapter 18 Your Hand in Mine

Chapter 18 - Your Hand in Mine

"So, tell me again about this hot sex on a platter thing?"

I look over my shoulder at Emmett as I descend the front steps of my house, rolling my eyes. "Really? _That's _the part of my conversation with Jess and Lauren that sunk in? Out of _everything _I told you yesterday?"

"Hey, I think it's great they've come to their senses, and you're on the road to best friendship again. You know that. So sue me for also thinking it's great that Jess recognizes the hotness." He emphasizes this modest statement with a wide, playful smile and runs his hand down his chest before smacking his stomach.

"Well, take that with a grain of salt. She also thinks Mike is the hottest thing since Ryan Gosling in _The Notebook_," I tease, flipping the hood of my rain jacket up. There's a fine mist falling from the gray morning sky, and I can feel my hair deciding whether it wants to get frizzy or not.

Emmett grins, not at all insulted, and uses his much longer legs to stride past me. I know exactly what he's going to do even before he gets to the passenger door of his Jeep and opens it for me. I stop in front of him, pulling his hat off his head and then placing it backwards so I can get to his mouth. He ducks back, keeping those warm lips just out of reach, and gently grasps my arms.

"Do _you_ think I'm hot sex on a platter?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I purse my lips thoughtfully. "A little bit."

"A little bit?" he presses, pulling me closer and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"A lot bit," I admit with a grin. I can't lie to him, not when he's looking down at me with soft eyes and that adorable boy smile, tiny droplets of water catching in his stupidly long eyelashes.

"Well, I trust _your _taste in guys." He pauses and then smiles impishly. "Or, at least now I do."

"Ooh, thinly veiled ex insult. One point for McCarty."

He wiggles his eyebrows and places a quick kiss on my lips, then pushes the heel of his hand against my hip. "Get in the car, Hale. I thought you wanted to get to school early."

I peel away from him, grumbling, and hop up into the passenger seat, buckling my seat belt. When I told Emmett last night on the phone that I wanted to get to school a little early in case Lauren and Jess were there and wanted to talk, he'd offered to drive me. It was a completely unnecessary offer, but extra alone time with him isn't something I'll ever turn down.

Emmett waits until I'm done getting situated, his hands now braced on the door frame, and then leans in.

"Want one for the road?" I guess.

"Please," he replies, the tone of his voice both asking and demanding it.

"You're so needy," I tease, smiling as his face comes closer to mine.

"Yep." He shrugs, unapologetic, before his lips meet mine. I feel the corners of his mouth turn up as he continues to kiss me, and I know mine are doing this same. Reluctantly he pulls away, spinning the brim of his hat forward. "Let's get a move on, Hale. Otherwise we won't get to school early, and I know that's important to you."

He shuts the door and taps the roof of the Jeep before jogging to the driver's side. The drive to the school only takes about ten minutes, and he relays his after-school schedule for the majority of it, knowing I like to know when we'll get to spend time together.

We're nearly at school when I reach into my bag, rooting around for my phone. "I think I'll text Jess and see where th..." I trail off, realizing that I'm a dumbass who plugged it into my mom's charger rather than my own. When Emmett showed up, my routine was completely thrown off. "Crap! I left my phone at home."

"Crap," Emmett echoes. "How's that even possible? I thought you had that thing surgically attached to your hand."

"Don't mock," I say as I lean back on my seat, my arms crossed, pouting. "Someone was distracting me this morning and I was excited."

He shakes his head and grins. "Mmmhmm, I bet you were. So this is my fault?" His fingers tweak my knee and he gets the giggle he's looking for before I remember I'm supposed to be pouting. "Well listen, what can we do to fix it? Do you want me to turn around? Or you could borrow mine, although it's nowhere as fancy as yours."

I push out my bottom lip a little more for dramatic effect. "No, I should really just get to school in case they're already there." Then I breathe loudly, my shoulders sagging in mock-defeat. "Everything is ruined now. Sigh."

"Did you just _say_ 'sigh' out loud?" My eyes narrow and I look over at him out of the corner of my eye. I can tell he's trying hard not to laugh at me. He shakes his head and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "God, you're cute."

"I'm not cute. I'm pouting!" I'm also whining, but that's beside the point. "I'm annoyed at myself."

He pulls into the school's parking lot and I see Lauren's car. I look at Emmett to see that he's noticed it, too. After he shuts the engine, he releases his seat belt, turning so he's facing me. "Ro, you've got to relax. Consider it a detox from technology for a day. If something _that _important happens to you today, someone will get in touch with you, somehow. What's important right now is that you get in there and talk to your friends. Get your head in the game."

"You're right."

"I know I'm right," he says before pausing for the tiniest of seconds. "I'm also hot sex on a platter."

I groan, unbuckling my seat belt. "God, Jess has created a monster."

"Some would say a _beast_." He grins cheekily and then he's gone, slamming his door and jogging around to my side. I hop out before he can go all white knight on me, meeting him at the front of the Jeep, and he gives me a teasingly reproachful frown that I kiss away.

We're quiet as we make our way across the parking lot, our clasped hands swinging between us. When Emmett opens the glass door that leads inside, he catches my eye and we grin goofily at each other.

"What?" I ask when he keeps looking at me, now out of the corner of his eye since we're walking.

"What?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Do you always answer questions with questions?"

He nudges my shoulder with his arm. "Only when it makes you smile."

His dimples flash as he says this, his own smile wide, and I know he catches the reference, is remembering the conversation we had in this same hallway what feels like forever ago. I remember, too, what it felt like to walk with him then. How my heart pounded just having him close to me. But unlike before, I can touch him now, can keep my hand in his and not worry about who doesn't know, because everyone does. I can be completely his.

And I am.

I'm still smiling when we round the corner. Lauren and Jess are waiting for me at my locker, deep in conversation. Lauren is slouched against my locker, drumming her fingers absently against the metal door while Jess waves her hands animatedly. A few doors down, Alice and Jasper are waiting at Emmett's, their heads bent close together.

It's so familiar, the same type of scene I would have walked up to before all of this happened. But it's so different, too, because when I walk up to Jess and Lauren, Emmett is right beside me. Jess catches sight of us first and smiles, a little hesitant but genuine.

"Rosie Posie!" she exclaims, lightly yanking on a strand of my hair. Her eyes flicker over to Emmett and she tilts her head, her smile widening a bit. "Morning, Em."

"Hey, Jess," he replies. It's casual on the surface, but I feel the weighted meaning of their exchange. He turns to Lauren, who's straightened up and is watching the scene unfold with a cautiously blank look on her face. "Hey, Lauren."

My gaze bounces past them to Alice and Jasper, who are watching all of this unfold with amused grins. Alice catches my eye and winks, snapping her fingers dramatically, a la _West Side Story_. I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but I can't help the soft snort that escapes.

"Hey." One corner of Lauren's mouth twitches up, almost against her will. It's there, though. It's a start. She gently kicks the toe of my ballet flat with her own. "You walking with us to homeroom?"

"Yeah, let me just grab my books." I swing my bag around to unload the ones I don't need until later while they both shift to stand in front of the next locker over. Lauren reaches over and spins the lock on my locker, popping it open while Jess does a wonderful Vanna impression.

Emmett looks over toward his locker where Edward and Bella have joined the others, and then back to me. He doesn't say anything but his eyes silently ask me what I want him to do. _Stay or go? _I give his hand a reassuring squeeze and lean into him.

_I'm okay. I've got this. _

"I'll see you at lunch?"

"Yep. Remember, no phone. So if you need me, send a smoke signal or something."

He tilts his head, so his mouth is right at the shell of my ear and whispers, "I'll always need you." Then he pulls away and the soft expression on his face gives away that he's said something incredibly sweet. I see Jess nudge Lauren in the ribs with her elbow in my periphery. Emmett smiles at the three of us and says, "Later."

"Bye, Emmett," Jess trills out as he makes his way to his locker, and he puts his hand to the back of his neck, all _aw shucks._

Lauren stares at Jess for a second and then her attention slides to me. "I think Jess has a crush on your boyfriend." It's not snide, like we all know she can be; it's just Lauren's brand of humor. She's attempting a joke. She's _trying._

It says a lot without her saying much at all.

After I've grabbed my books, we walk down the hall together toward our homerooms. Lauren doesn't thread her arm through mine like she normally does, like she would have before. She and Jess cocoon me on either side instead, our arms and shoulders bumping intermittently. It's different, but it's a start.

**xoxo**

"Six or eight?" Jess asks later, as we make our way to the lunchroom.

"I'm absolutely not answering that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's none of your business," I state, primly adjusting the strap of my bag. Even though I just ditched my books at my locker, it still feels like it weighs a million pounds.

Jess stops in the middle of the hallway, one hand going to her hip. "It's a valid question, Posie."

Lauren rolls her eyes, continuing her slow mosey toward the lunchroom. The sway of her hips screams, _I'm _so_ tired of this subject. _"You're asking if Emmett has a six-pack or an eight-pack. In what world is that valid, Stan?"

"I'm just taking an interest in Posie's relationship," Jess replies, skipping to catch up with us when she realizes we're not going to stop for her. "Excuse me for living."

"I'll be sure to pass that information on to your boyfriend. I'm sure he'll be very interested to hear about _your _interest in Posie's boyfriend's abs."

Jess waves Lauren off with an irritated snort. "Please, Mike knows he's the future Mr. Stanley."

"Whatever, can you stop dawdling? I'm _starving_." Lauren moans dramatically, gripping my arm and pretending to swoon. The contact surprises me a little; she's been vacillating between lukewarm and chilly since we made up, but this feels almost...normal.

"No wonder you're in such a bitchy mood." Jess purses her lips thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "God, you must be hungry _all the time_."

Lauren frowns but keeps her grip on my arm. "Aren't you cute? This is me being _nice_, remember?"

"Wow, they are so closely related, it's hard to tell sometimes," Jess shoots back.

I smile at their back and forth but stay quiet, remembering Mallo's vow to be nicer and how that had panned out only a few weeks ago. But maybe her resolution is really, finally and truly, kicking in. One can only hope.

We're just through the lunchroom doors when I see Edward pushing through the crowd of oncoming traffic. My eyes scan the people directly behind him, looking for Emmett, but I don't see him anywhere. _He must be buying lunch or sitting at the table already. _Lauren waves her hand over, stepping forward to greet him with enthusiasm, despite her hunger pains. Apparently, he's always going to be her guinea pig. "Edward! It's great to see -"

But he plows past her and grabs my arms with both hands. "Rosalie, did Emmett find you?" The urgency and seriousness in his voice scares me, makes my heart stop and my blood rush to my head.

"What? No, we were going to meet here. Why?"

His eyes widen a bit and he releases me to run a hand over his hair. "Shit. Okay, don't panic..."

Why do people say that? _Don't panic. _Because of course, the panic welling in my chest is immediate, as soon as the words are out there. My mind races with possible scenarios that could have happened, all of them more insane than the next. He's looking at me, trying to assess if I'm going to freak out and clearly not talking fast enough. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"I don't know details but, uh, Gram's in the hospital. I'm trying to reach my dad to get something, anything, but yeah... Emmett got a call just before lunch and he tried to call you before he went over there, but then he remembered you left your phone at home. He was going to try and find you before he left, but -"

"_What_?"

He repeats the words, but I'm shaking my head, just repeating "what?" over and over again, each time more high-pitched and panicked than the last, like somehow that will change what's being said. Then there are voices, other voices, the voices of Jess and Lauren. They sound so far away. I feel a cool hand on my arm, but all I can think about is Emmett, how scared he probably is, and how if something is really wrong with Gram, I don't know what he'll do. He probably doesn't know, either. If _I _feel this way, I can't imagine how he's feeling right now, all alone.

And how I forgot my stupid phone at home and was acting like _that_ was a first world problem.

"I have to go."

Edward head bobs up and down in a nod, his brows pulled down low over his eyes. He doesn't say how worried he is for Gram and Emmett, but he doesn't have to. It's written all over his face, probably a reflection of my own expression.

"I have to go," I repeat more urgently, stepping sideways blindly. Lauren is right there; we crash into each other at the hip and shoulder, but she doesn't huff or tease me. Her hand cups my elbow while I remember that not only do I not have my phone, but I don't have my car. "Shit, my car. Emmett drove me this morning. I don't have my car."

"I'll -"

Jess puts one hand on Edward's shoulder to stop him, placing her other hand on my arm. "It's okay, Pose. We'll get you there, okay? Mallo and I will take you."

Edward scratches just below his ear, his gaze dancing from Jess to Lauren. Then he looks at me. "Cool with you, Ro?" His tone is casual, but I know he's worried. Last he knew, Lauren and Jess were still giving me the silent treatment.

"It's fine," I reply, shooting him a grateful look.

He pulls me into a brief, tight hug, his voice quiet against my hair. "I'm sure it's going to be fine, but take care of him, okay? And let us know what's going on when you can."

I swallow the lump in my throat, painfully. "Okay."

Edward draws back and pats his pockets until he finds what he's looking for: his phone. He presses it into my hand and I look up at him, questioningly. "Call us? Bella's in my favorites. Hell, she's my only favorite besides my parents. Anyway, she'll keep her phone on for the rest of the day. And if you need _anything," _his eyes flicker over to Jess and Lauren for the very briefest of seconds before returning to me, "...call. Also, my dad should be over there, so if you run into any trouble, have him paged."

I whisper a quiet thanks before hugging him quickly once more.

Jess and Lauren flank me on either side as we walk away from the lunchroom and toward the parking lot, but my pace is faster than theirs, more desperate. By the time we get outside, I'm five paces ahead of them. Lauren's Audi glistens underneath the falling mist.

"Are we going to get back in time for English?" I hear Lauren murmur.

There's silence, and then Jess's short reply. "I have no idea, Lauren. We'll figure it out when we get her to the hospital."

"My mom's going to kill me if she gets a call from the school, just so you're aware."

I get to the car and pull on the door handle, expecting it to be unlocked already, even though I didn't see the telltale flash of taillights. But Lauren's still digging around in her bag while watching Jess, whose expression has turned stormy.

"Your mom will understand. We need to be there for Rose." Jess gives Lauren what she thinks is a secret, pointed look, and for a moment, I think they've forgotten I'm here. But then Lauren's eyes meet mine, and her expression softens, and she looks more like my best friend than she has in a really, really long time.

"Right," she replies, almost as if to herself. There's a short beep and a gentle click and then I'm sliding into the front seat. I don't even care that Lauren drives like a complete maniac and that the passenger seat is the most dangerous. I hope she drives fast. I need her to get me there.

I want to see Emmett. To touch him and hear him say that everything is okay, that it was just a scare and Gram forgot to take her medicine again. That this is all precautionary, and Emmett isn't in danger of losing the most important person in his life.

Jess wonders aloud, "I don't get it. Why aren't Emmett's parents dealing with this?"

"They're -" I halt, not wanting to say too much but knowing that I have to give my friends something to work with. I've learned that, at least, in the past week. "They're not really in the picture."

Jess lets out a small _oh _but says nothing else. Neither of them do.

I don't realize I'm crying until I feel a hand on my knee. I look down at it, at the pale pink polish on them, and then up at Lauren. "Get it all out now," she says. Her tone is matter-of-fact and a little brusque, but she squeezes my leg reassuringly. "He's going to need you to be strong when you get there."

So I do. I cry because I'm scared and because I don't know what's going on, because I do want to be strong for him, and I can't do that if I'm a blubbering mess. I half expect Jess to tease me about the tears rolling down my cheeks - she's pointed out in the past that I've got the biggest, most dramatic tears she's ever seen. But she just rubs my arm from shoulder to elbow, in long, soothing strokes that make my ragged breaths come easier.

I hit Emmett's number a few times in succession, but the calls immediately get bounced to voicemail. After I push the screen yet again, Jess leans her head against my seat and whispers something about a hospital rule requiring cell phones to be off in the Emergency Room.

Then she scoots back and re-buckles her seat belt with a comment under her breath about how it's a good thing we're headed to the hospital because Lauren might land _us _there.

The rest of the ride is quiet, and true to Lauren's driving record, she gets us there far faster than we should. Instead of pulling into the parking lot, she swings a wide left and stops in front of the Emergency Room entrance. "Go on, Posie." Wide-eyed, I look at her and she runs her pointer finger along my cheekbone before rubbing off errant eyeliner. "Stan, go with her. I'll park the car and meet you in there."

The automatic doors silently slide open, welcoming Jess and I to an otherwise quiet atrium. I remember the last time I'd been to the hospital's Emergency Room was when Mike misjudged the distance of a cannonball into the pool after the Newtons added the grotto and whacked his head on the edge of the slide. I know that Jess is remembering that, too, because her hand slides into mine as we make our way to the desk.

The receptionist smiles pleasantly at us, though we can both tell it's guarded, all the while scanning us to see if we're potential patients. "Good afternoon, girls..." She trails off, seemingly waiting to see what she's in store for. I'm sure they see all kinds of hysterical people here, but at the moment it seems pretty quiet.

I place my hands on the desk and summon my very best adult voice. "We're looking for Imogen Connolly. I think she came in a bit ago."

"Okay." She types something on the keyboard, and then clicks her mouse several times. Her expression gives away nothing and it reminds me of Edward, only with this woman, it's way more annoying. "Are either of you family?" Jess and I exchange a glance, which is enough of an answer for her. "You can sit in the waiting room and when there's a quiet moment, I'll let the family know you're out here."

Jess and I exchange yet another look and I know we're both thinking the same thing: _A quiet moment? The place isn't exactly hopping._

"Isn't there any way you can let him know now?" I ask, leaning over the desk. I give what my dad calls my "can't I have it?" look - wide eyes, hopeful smile - but the woman just blinks at me and then looks back at her screen, her fingers flying over her keyboard. The gentle _tap, tap, tap _of the keys sounds so loud in the otherwise silent room.

"You can sit in the waiting room until I let the family know, miss," she repeats firmly.

I want to tell her that "the family" is one boy. I want to reach over the counter and shake her, yell at her to let me go to him _now_, because I'm here for him and he needs me. It's my turn to be the rock, but what good am I if I'm stuck in the waiting room?

Jess must sense that I'm about to launch myself on this woman, because she tugs on my wrist gently, and then not so gently. "She's not going to get you in any faster if you piss her off," she murmurs under her breath.

"But he's waiting for me," I protest, saying it loudly so that my voice will carry back to the receptionist.

"And she'll get him. I bet we'll only have to wait for a few minutes, and if it's more than that, I'll go back and bug the shit out of her." Jess squeezes my wrist, her dark eyes wide. She's giving me _her _"can't I have it?" look now, and it works. I feel my shoulders sag and all of my anger leaks out in one long, slow breath.

"Fine. Five minutes and then I'm throwing a fit."

"I'll totally help you." Jess smiles, releasing my wrist so she can wrap her arm around my waist. As we make our way toward the waiting room, she adds, "Or Mallo will help you, since we both know she can tantrum like no one else."

I sniffle-laugh at the knowing look she gives me, collapsing into the first chair I see. She sits next to me, taking my hand, and we sit there in silence. My gaze bounces from the reception desk to the clock on the wall and back again. I wasn't kidding about the five-minute limit.

Lauren joins us a minute and a half later, sliding into the seat on the other side of me with a sigh. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes go to Jess's and my hands. I catch the flicker of sadness on her face when she looks away. I'm surprised by how much that show of emotion affects me, and how much I need her strength right now, so I grab a hold of her hand, too. Her grasp isn't as tight as Jess's, but she doesn't let go.

"This is taking too long," I say fretfully, my knee bouncing up and down. "Why can't I just _go _to him?"

"Just a couple more minutes," Jess replies soothingly. I can't tear my eyes away from the clock, so I don't know if she sees me nod or not.

"You really care about him, don't you?"

Lauren's voice startles me out of my obsessive counting of the seconds. I turn to find her watching me thoughtfully, her head tilted slightly. Her eyes travel over my face, like it's written there. It probably is.

"I love him." My voice is tremulous. Lauren nods; she doesn't look surprised, and that surprises me. We're quiet for a moment until my inhale echoes around us. "I'm sorry you found out the way you did."

She nods again, her eyes fixed on the vending machine across the room. The fingers of her free hand tap against the arm of her chair, making a hollow, tinny sound. "I'm sorry you didn't think we'd understand," she says finally, her gaze moving to me. I can plainly see the hurt in her eyes, and my own tear up.

"Do you now?"

Jess squeezes my hand, and Lauren lets go, leaning forward to rest her elbows on top of her knees. She props her chin in one hand and shrugs, but doesn't respond immediately.

"I'm getting there," she replies finally. "It's just a lot to take in, I guess."

"But we're here for you now," Jess adds, shifting her seat so that she's leaning forward, too, looking at Lauren before focusing her attention back on me. "You know that, right?"

The lump in my throat is thick, and I swallow a couple times before murmuring, "I know."

And right now, I do. No matter what they think of my relationship with Emmett, regardless of whether they're still upset with me, still figuring out ways to come to terms with this truer version of me, they're sitting here. They're _here_.

We sit in silence and I watch the second-hand tick mercilessly around the clock. _37, 38, 39. _If it hits _1 _again and I'm not standing next to Emmett, that lady is going to have hell to pay. I turn my attention to her desk, ready to shoot eye-daggers in her direction, but she's not there. My only hope is that she's gone to track down Emmett, not pranced off to the cafeteria to pick up lunch.

_44, 45, 46._

The mechanical grinding of the automatic doors that lead back to the Emergency Room draw my attention, and before they're completely open, I see Emmett muscling his way through them. His head is bowed and I can't see his eyes because his hat's brim is in the way; he's closing in on himself. I'm vaguely aware that Desk Lady is a few paces behind him.

On either side of me, Jess and Lauren simultaneously reach for and squeeze my hands before I stand and let them go. Lauren whispers "remember, be strong"and Jess's fingers linger just a second longer in my hand_._Walking doesn't seem to be getting me there quickly enough, so I trot toward him while he makes his way over to the waiting room.

My mind is racing with questions, with words, both encouraging and sympathetic. I have everything to say, but nothing that feels right spring to mind. I don't know where to start.

But before I need to figure out the words, he pulls his hat off and stuffs it in his pocket; I can see his face clearly: distraught, sad, needing. Lost. I've _never _seen him like this.

So I _do _rather than _say. _He tries to speak, starts to say my name, but his voice breaks as I wrap my arms around his waist and press my face into his neck. We stand there, holding each other quietly while I feel the rhythmic thump of his heart slow from its racing. One hand moves from where it fell on my back to my hair as his cradles my head.

"You're here."

Pulling back slightly, I raise a finger to his lips and tap, giving him a soft smile. "I'm here."

We don't talk about how unfortunate it was that I left my phone at home, nor do we mention Lauren and Jess sitting ten feet away. Instead we speak silently, with long looks and messages that only the two of us know or understand. I take his hand in mine and lead him over to the waiting room, signaling for him to sit. Jess raises an eyebrow, silently asking if they should clear out. I shake my head once._ Not yet. _

Emmett collapses into one of the chairs, much like I did moments earlier, but keeps our hands bound together. I sit next to him, lean into him.

"What happened, Emmett? How's Gram? Is she...are you..." I trail off, not sure how to proceed. The pained look on his face now is hard enough to take. I don't want to say the wrong thing and make it worse.

"Gram is... well, she's _Gram. _Stubborn as hell. But, not going to sugarcoat it, she's pretty banged up_. _She's back there talking to Carlisle right now. He's standing in for me while I came out here for you."

"What happened?"

"She forgot to take her meds again this morning. She got dizzy, fell, and broke her ankle. It'll need surgery." He scrubs at his eyes with his free hand, exhaling an exhausted, frustrated breath. "She's all bruised up and stuff, too, but other than that she's okay." Again he stops, this time swallowing hard. He looks young, younger even than the 17-year-old boy he is, and I have to swallow against the lump rising in my throat because I want to take this all away for him. "It could've been a lot worse."

I hear a rustle behind me, and Emmett and I both turn to see Lauren standing up. She pulls on the zipper of her coat, moving it up and down swiftly, seeming almost nervous. Nudging Jess's foot, she says, "Stan, let's give them a sec, yeah?" Her eyes dart past me. "Do you want anything from the vending machine, Emmett?"

I think it's the first time she's said his name, at least since all of this happened. Her tone is even, but softer than usual.

"Uh, sure," Emmett replies, straightening in his seat.

Jess hops to her feet, too, threading her arm through Lauren's. "What can we get you?"

"M&Ms?" He twists in his seat, reaching for his back pocket. Jess waves him off before he can pull his wallet out.

"On the house," she states, and then turns on her heels, towing Lauren after her like this was her idea. Lauren looks over her shoulder at us and rolls her eyes. Emmett's chuckle rumbles low, next to my ear.

We watch them in silence as they make their way across the room, their heads bent close together, and then I turn back to him. His eyes slide from my friends to me. The fluorescent lights in the waiting room make his eyes look extra-blue, but tired. Sad.

"Are you okay?" I ask, leaning forward to place a kiss on his chin. His skin is soft and warm against my lips and his sigh fans across my skin.

"She just...she looks so frail in there. Like, _old_, you know? It scared the shit out of me, seeing her like that," he whispers. I pull back, but he's still so close that I can see all the faint freckles across his nose, how the thick fringe of his eyelashes are stuck together into little damp clumps.

"I can't imagine," I say, swallowing. "She's going to be okay, though?"

He lets out a breath. "She's going to be fine. Thank fucking god."

"I hate that you're dealing with this alone, Em," I murmur. I also hate how my voice shakes, because I want to be strong for him, like he's been strong for me.

"I'm not alone." He smiles, and it's a ghost of his usual, wide one, but there's a hint of teasing in it. "I've got you. You're even skipping English for me, Hale."

"It won't be the first time." He laughs and the sound floods through me, this surge of relief. "You know what I mean, though."

Emmett looks down, nodding. "I called my dad. He's coming over in a couple of hours, and he said he'd help me with her recovery as much as he could. She's going to be pretty incapacitated for a little while, and with school and football..." I don't miss the guilt that flashes across his face, collected between his eyebrows, and I reach up to smooth it away.

"You need the help, Emmett," I finish for him. "You can't do all of this on your own."

"Fuck, I know. Trust me, I know. She's not his mom, though, you know?"

"But you're his son."

He stares at me, as serious as I've ever seen him, until I shift in my seat, wondering if I've said the wrong thing. But then he wraps his hand around the back of my neck to bring my forehead to his lips, and he presses a kiss there. He moves down to my cheek, across my cheekbone, and places a soft kiss right in front of my ear. My eyes close and I sigh with him. "I love you, Ro."

"I love you," I reply. "I'm here for you. I'll do whatever to help you."

"I know you will."

A throat clears and we pull apart. Lauren and Jess are standing there, identical, knowing looks on their faces. They don't say it, and won't, but I can tell they heard the tail-end of Emmett's and my conversation.

"Here are your M&Ms." Jess holds out the bag of candy. Emmett takes it with a grateful smile, flashing his dimples.

"We have to get back to school, Posie," Lauren speaks up, reluctantly. "Are you staying?"

"Yeah, I'm staying." I jump up and give both Jess and Lauren quick hugs. We stand there for a second, tucked together into a little triangle, quiet and unsure what to say or do next. I know I'll think about all of this later, how even though our friendship feels good again, it still feels different. There's been a permanent shift between us. Right now, though, I just smile and whisper, "Thank you."

"Do you guys mind letting Edward and everyone know what's going on with my gram?" Emmett asks as he stands, pocketing the M&Ms. "I'd call, but I kind of want to get back in there with her."

Jess waves her hand. "No problem, we'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Jess," he says with a boyish, grateful grin. I look at her out of the corner of my eye and see her cheeks are a little pink. She catches my small grin and throws me a withering look.

"Oh, and tell him that I'll give him a call on Bella's phone later," I add, remembering that I still have his phone. Emmett looks at me questioningly. "Edward gave me his in case I needed it, which, by the way, I called you about thirty times from, so the missed calls are me, not Edward."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they were from Cullen," Emmett deadpans. "Total stalker."

Jess laughs at that, and even Lauren smiles, giving him that same thoughtful look she gave me when I told her I loved him. We say our goodbyes one more time, and then they turn, making their way toward the exit.

Lauren turns around after just a few steps, hesitant. "Hey, Emmett? I'm glad your grandma is going to be okay."

He starts, surprised, and then nods, one corner of his mouth pulling up. "I appreciate that, Lauren, thanks."

She nods once, her eyes darting to me before she takes Jess's arm and pulls her toward the exit. My chest feels achy and warm as I watch them go, but when Emmett's hand closes around mine, the only warmth I can focus on is from his fingers.

"So," I say, turning to him. "Do you think Gram is up for another visitor?"

Emmett snorts. "Are you kidding? She'll be so happy to have someone to complain about me and Carlisle to, she won't even know what to do with herself."

"What would she complain about?"

"Our hovering."

I raise an eyebrow. "Isn't it Carlisle's job to hover?"

"Tell that to Gram." Emmett gives me a pointed look, and I can't help but laugh, because I can just imagine her tutting about it. "I'm smuggling in the M&Ms to butter her up. Damn, I might as well take out a loan for all the cannolis I'm going to buy over the next few months, because if she thinks I'm hovering now..."

"God help you."

He gives an exaggerated, all-suffering sigh, then starts to pull me toward the hall that must lead to her room. I dig my heels in, hesitant. "Wait. Am I allowed back there? Desk Lady gave me some attitude earlier."

"Rosalie." He steps closer, cradling my face between his hands. "You're with me now. She won't give you any trouble."

I roll my eyes. "Right, I forgot that you've got some magic McCarty voodoo in that smile of yours. You've probably got her wrapped around your finger."

"Whatever it takes," he replies.

"Sacrifice for the cause," I say, and he laughs. I love that sound, especially now, and I love that I'm the one who got it out of him. We stand like this for a moment, my face in his hands, smiling at one another.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmurs finally, his expression sobering. Somehow I know he means here as something bigger than right now, here in this hospital. I'm finally _here _in the bigger sense: with him, and just as importantly, with _myself_.

I close my eyes and when I open them again, Emmett is smiling his magic smile, the special version that's only mine. We kiss, a short, sweet one that makes my eyes burn and my throat get tight. And then he takes my hand in his and, we start walking down the hall. Nothing has ever felt so right.

It takes me a minute to find my voice, but when I do, I finally reply, "I'm glad I'm here, too."

* * *

><p>All right, friends, sad to say we're almost at the end here. Just the epilogue left, and after that we'll be posting a future-take with these kids. And then we'll be signing off. We'll leave all the goodbyes for a little later.<p>

In the meantime, we've got to say our usual thank you to our wonderful, beautiful, and comma-correcting beta, AccioBourbon. She takes such good care of us, as do ThatIsRiddik and JugsterBunny. They've been with us since we started this whole crazy thing months ago, and we really couldn't - and wouldn't have wanted to - do this without them.

And also as usual, you guys blow us away with your reviews and tweets and PMs. Lots of buzz on ADF, which we totally appreciate! Thanks to you for making this so much fun.

See you next week!


	19. Epilogue Don't Stop Me Now

Epilogue – Don't Stop Me Now

"Is it everything you'd dreamed it would be?"

I turn to shoot a look at Emmett, but my hair is everywhere. At first I tried to tame it, attempted to knot it at the base of my neck. The wind had other plans, though, so I just let it fly, let it go where it wanted to go.

I dance one hand through the air out of the window, pushing my hair against my neck with the other one so he can easily see my mock glare. "Are you making fun of me?"

"C'mon, would I ever make fun of you?" He squeezes my knee and winks before turning his attention back to the road.

"More questions with questions?" I ask, reaching over to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. My hair goes flying again, but I don't care. "And yes, actually, you would make fun of me. You make fun of me a lot."

"Nah, Hale. I make fun _with _you." He gives me one of his wide, beautifully dimpled smiles. "We're fun together."

I hum, nodding my head. "Nice save. And as a matter of fact, it _is _everything I dreamed it would be."

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

I smile and close my eyes, tilting my head to the sky. The classic rock station Emmett's playing is lining up a block of Queen. I let out a soft _yes _when I hear the beginning strains of what I consider to be my new personal anthem. The sun's rays warm my face and being here with him warms the rest of me; the moment is perfect, one that I know I'll look back on always. I wasn't exaggerating when I said this moment is everything I dreamed it would be. It's actually more. It's what I wanted before I was even aware I wanted it, even before I saw him driving down the street in the Jeep I'm sitting in now, with the top down, windows open, laughter seeping out.

I've been waiting all winter for this ride. Thanks to Washington's temperamental weather, this is the first time we've been able to take the top off, to really enjoy the bit of warmth the sun's giving us. It's fitting in a way, considering summer is about to start. It's the weekend before our last week of school. A first time sandwiched in between so many last times.

The back of Emmett's Jeep is packed with our things from the senior retreat, which just happened to land the night prior to the graduation party my parents planned. May and June have been non-stop in terms of events. Every weekend is crammed full of parties, every weekday wrapping up the special school events that make up the end of senior year. My camera is getting a work out, capturing images for both the paper and myself.

The Student Counsel and Honor Society joined forces in planning the senior retreat. We wound up booking the lodge on the outskirts of the rez, a big, hulking thing that's all wood and stone, surrounded by tall pine trees as far as the eye can see. The night was PG-13 fun, especially given that we had chaperons with us, but we were all surprisingly okay with that.

Everyone kept chanting "less sleep, more bonding" when anyone looked like they were going to pass out from exhaustion. I think we all secretly wanted to sit around and eat s'mores and tell ghost stories until the wee hours of the morning, clinging to our last days as kids, all of us together. Even if it was just for the night, we didn't want to rush into adulthood.

After all, it's knocking on our door pretty loudly.

The morning air had just lost its chill as Emmett and I were packing our stuff away to head home. But the sun was shining brightly overhead, the sky clear of the clouds that had hung over us for what felt like an entire year. It was the perfect day for our inaugural ride in the Jeep with the top off.

Emmett happily complied in doing the dirty work while I sat on a log railroad tie, watching him work and calling out directions on something I knew absolutely nothing about. Alice joined me at my perch to add her two cents while Jasper was tossing stuff into the back of his car (which he's sure is on its very last wheel).

"Did you have a good time last night, babe?" Emmett asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I stop singing under my breath, and my head lolls until I'm looking at him. He's completely relaxed behind the wheel; his hands resting on the bottom of it, a beat-up hat on his head and a soft smile tugging at his mouth. I lean over, resting my cheek against his shoulder. He smells like firewood and spice. It reminds me of the first night we hung out, takes me back and makes it feel like yesterday, even though it was nine months ago.

"Ask me again when I've had more than four hours of sleep," I say around a yawn.

He catches it and yawns, too, a jaw-cracking one that makes my eyes water. "Seriously, if I fall asleep in the middle of your party, you can't blame me."

I sit up, raising a pointed eyebrow. "I'm sure I can."

"_You _made us stay up all night, Hale."

"Actually," I drawl, "_Alice _made us stay up all night because she threatened to draw dicks on our faces if we fell asleep. Please get your facts straight."

"What she lacks in height, she makes up for in threats. She'll have to come up with ways to boss us around from her fancy fashion school."

"Hmm, New York's a pretty far reach."

"If anyone can do it, she can." He sighs with an affectionate grin, shaking his head. "I'll miss that one."

"I know."

I don't have to say that I will, too. Even if it wasn't completely obvious by the tone of my voice, Emmett would know I'll have an extremely hard time saying goodbye to the four people I've grown extraordinarily close to over the past nine months, when the summer's over.

And it won't be easy to say goodbye to the people I've grown away from, either.

I guess I should have expected it. Edward warned me it would happen, and I think deep down I knew it would, but the gradual drifting between me, Jess and Lauren still took me by surprise. Maybe it was the gradual part of it that made it so surprising. It was okay at first - still different, but we all made an effort. They met me at my locker most mornings, and we did after-school shopping trips to Port Angeles occasionally. Emmett was game for hanging out with them whenever I asked, and we did the triple date thing a few times, which was fine, if not a little weird. For all of Lauren's promises to make "being nice" her resolution, and as much as she'd been there for me when Emmett's gram got sick, she didn't bend over backward to make Emmett feel included.

Even if that hadn't been the case, Mike and Tyler were still as tight as ever with Roy, whom I avoided whenever possible. So that meant lunchtime was spent at Emmett's table. It meant that I didn't go to Mike's parties on the weekends. It meant that instead, I went to another gathering that happened a few blocks away. And, as I'd discovered the first night I'd wandered into Edward's front yard last fall, that was where I really _wanted _to be. It was where I felt like I belonged.

After a few months, it wasn't just the place but the people I felt that sense of belonging with. I got to know Bella, Alice, Jasper and even Edward in a different way, got to see all of the big and little things that made them who they are. They turned into these people who know I snort when I laugh (Bella does a dead-on impression), who make fun of my passionate rendition of "Don't Stop Me Now" whenever I hear it, and that, given the opportunity, I'll eat Gummi Worms until I'm sick. They turned into people who weren't just Emmett's best friends anymore. That change was just as gradual, the way they became fixtures in my life.

I think I knew, when I saw Jess and Lauren at the diner one night with their respective boyfriends, along with Roy and Vera, that maybe sometimes you just can't fully bridge the gap once it's there, even if you wish you could.

I still see them, but it's less frequent and more uncomfortable. I invited them to my party today, but I have no idea whether they'll make it, seeing as how neither of them RSVPed (not a surprise - both of them have always had a penchant for just showing up). I didn't even see them much at the retreat last night, just got glimpses of them every once in a while.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I look over at Emmett with a wry smile. He raises a questioning eyebrow. "Just a penny?"

"Isn't that how the saying goes?"

"Yeah, but it's a totally outdated saying, McCarty. You have to account for inflation." He laughs, the sweet, deep one that kind of lilts at the end, and I stick my bottom lip out. "You wound me with the insinuation that my thoughts are only worth a penny."

"So sensitive, babe. I'm fully aware those thoughts are Stanford-grade." He says this teasingly, but also with a note of pride in his voice. I wrinkle my nose and his grin gets bigger.

Stanford. Also known as the school I'll be attending come fall. Also known as the school that resides in Palo Alto, California, which happens to be nearly a thousand miles from where Emmett will be in the fall. Despite his gram's insistence that he apply to a university, he'll be going to Peninsula College (which is where I ended up taking a photography course on Saturdays, after Bingo). Her health has been stable since her accident this past fall, and a day nurse helps with her care, but Emmett doesn't want to take a chance. He doesn't want to be far away from her.

I get it, of course, and support it, but that distance looms over us. We've discussed it ad nauseum and have a plan - monthly trips home for me, trips to California for him when he can save up enough money, phone, Skype, emails, homing pigeon - but there's still a sense of uncertainty that creeps into the rock-solid knowledge that Emmett and I are going to make this long-distance thing work for us.

Emmett sighs next to me, squeezing my thigh. "Stop thinking about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," I lie.

He turns off the road suddenly and pulls into a parking lot pocked with potholes that jostle me in my seat. I smell the rich scent of coffee before I see the little coffeehouse in front of us and sigh, annoyed and grateful that he knows me well enough to realize I need caffeine to shake off my grumpiness. It's another thing that's changed this year. After a few late nights and long mornings working on senior projects, coffee and I are now best friends forever.

Thankfully, Emmett is understanding of our relationship.

He pulls into the only empty spot at the end of a row of cars, putting the car in park and turning off the ignition before shifting in his seat so that he's facing me.

"You _are _thinking about it. You're doing that thing with your face."

I glare over at him. "What thing with my face? And be _very _careful with your answer."

"That thing where your forehead wrinkles up and your eyes get all narrow," he replies, leaning toward me. He traces my bottom lip, and then taps it gently. "And your lips get all pouty."

I grumble under my breath, but say nothing.

He ducks his head down until our eyes are locked. His are a bright, beautiful blue, so serious and earnest, but still crinkled a little at the corners. "We're going to be fine, Ro. Seriously. Do you think there's any way I'm letting you go?"

I know his question is rhetorical, but I shake my head anyway. We've had this discussion more than a few times and I've tried to adopt his easy-going attitude, the one that I coveted before I even knew him, but there are some things are more ingrained than others. Still, if there's anything I've learned this year, it's that I have to try. I can't find out any other way.

"Come on, babe. Let's go get you some iced, Splenda-ed skim coffee. Maybe if you're lucky, they'll even have whipped cream."

My pout disappears as he jumps out of the Jeep and makes his way to my side to help me out. As soon as my feet hit the dirt parking lot, his arms are around me. Our foreheads rest against each other and I say, "You're really too good to me."

He murmurs, "Nothing but the best," before our lips meet and I forget about the worry, about the future, about the _what ifs_ and the _maybes_, and just live for this very moment.

**xoxo**

"How could we have been so wrong, you guys?" Jasper sighs, as I sneak up between him and Emmett. They're standing on the lawn in a loose circle with Edward, Bella and Alice, not far from the present table with all of my now-opened gifts. I've been trying to get back to them for the better part of the past twenty minutes, but my parents have been parading me around the backyard to chat with their friends. Guest of honor and all that.

"I don't know. I was _sure _I guessed right," Edward replies, shaking his head mournfully.

"What are you guys talking about?" I ask, nudging Emmett's hip with mine, which, in the wedge heels I'm wearing, is much more reachable than usual.

He winds his arm around my waist and pulls me close, placing a kiss on my temple. "We had a friendly wager going about what your parents were going to get you for your grad present."

Bella and Alice both roll their eyes. I smile when I think of the $500 worth of Continental ticket vouchers they got me, then raise an eyebrow at Edward, Jasper and Emmett.

"And?" I prompt when no one speaks up. Edward is smirking from behind the fist pressed against his mouth. Jasper blinks solemnly and looks past me to Emmett.

"A pony," Emmett says matter-of-factly.

"Oh, for god's sake," I mutter. I can already see where this is going. I turn to Jasper. "And you?"

"A small island." Alice stares up at him and his eyes widen innocently. It's a little lost with the shit-eating grin that pulls across his mouth, though. "What? I said small. God only knows what these rich bastards get each other."

"Right, because _that's _realistic. I love you, you simple, simple man," Alice replies, patting him on the back. His shirt says "I Came To Dance." I'll have to remember to ask Bella and Edward to text me pictures of his t-shirts every day, once they get to UW. Or at least the really good ones.

Jasper shrugs. "I prefer creative."

She grins and reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He lets her struggle to close the distance, but just for a second before swooping down and planting a kiss squarely and noisily on her lips.

God, I'm going to miss them.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and turn to Edward. "And what did you say, Cullen?"

"Well, I'm a practical man. Realistic, if you will. I guessed the elder Hales would give you a crown, since you're their little princess." Edward gives me a good-natured wink to let me know he's teasing, but I reach out and punch him in the arm anyway.

"And _I _mentioned that you already have a crown, Homecoming Queen," Jasper replies. "Too bad you didn't get to double up with the Prom win."

I hold up a hand. "Trust me, Jess appreciated the crown more than I ever could have. Mine is gathering dust in my closet somewhere."

"Prom was fun anyway, wasn't it?" Emmett whispers in my ear. I can feel his smile against my skin and I nod with a grin.

"Prom was _very _fun."

It was, and not just because I got to dance with Emmett to cheesy top 40 love songs and drink Tyler's spiked punch. By some Saint Prom miracle, my parents allowed me to stay the night at the hotel the dance was held at. It probably helped that said hotel was in Port Angeles and they didn't want us out on the roads late at night. It probably _also _helped that I promised I was sharing a room with Bella and Alice, which was a total lie, although our rooms were on the same floor. Still, I wonder if deep down they knew and turned a blind eye, knowing Emmett and I are going to be separated soon enough.

"They're talking about sex, aren't they?" Jasper asks with a grimace.

Edward nods. "Totally."

"Scandalous," Alice gasps.

Bella covers her ears. "Ugh, my virtue, you guys!"

"Oh, hey, Emmett, is there a pot here?" I ask, looking around me in mock confusion.

Emmett purses his lips, unconsciously pulling at the collar of the polo shirt I'm sure his gram made him wear. She's sitting on the patio, talking to Carlisle and Esme, thankfully nowhere within earshot of this conversation. "I'm not sure, but there's _definitely _a ket-"

"Rosalie Lillian Hale, how the hell are ya?" A voice calls out, effectively cutting Emmett off.

I turn to see Jess traipsing across the lawn, wearing one of her signature short dresses. She's surprisingly nimble for walking in heels and carrying Eric, to whom she is making kissy faces while speaking in a baby voice. Mike trails behind, carrying her purse and a wrapped present.

My gaze shifts beyond them, where Lauren and Tyler are not. When I meet Jess's eyes, I know she's caught it. She gives me a slight shake of her head and the momentary slip of her smile tells me that they aren't coming.

"Sick," she mouths, and then mimes a telephone. "She'll call."

I shrug with a little smile, determined to move on even though I feel a little flash of disappointment. Rather than focusing on what's _not_, I need to focus on what _is_.

"I see you're full naming again, Jessica Alison Stanley," I reply when she gets close enough that I don't have to bellow at her.

"You know how I do," she says, shrugging her shoulders and swaying her hips with a cheeky smile.

There's one thing that she's _not _doing: calling me Posie. I haven't heard it from them, except for occasionally, in the past few months. That's something that was gradual, too. Now I'm mostly called Ro. The group of friends surrounding me used it enough around other people to make it stick. The Posie aspect of my personality isn't something that's completely gone, though, which is okay, too. She shows up when I see shoes I can't live without, or when I'm irrationally pissy about something. She's a part of me, even if it's a significantly smaller part. I can't help but wonder what I'll wind up going by at Stanford, but I know that whatever it is, it's more about my personality than my name.

Jess and Mike reach us and she pulls me in for a quick hug before grabbing the present from Mike with her free hand. Her eyes scan the group and she smiles, a little unsure. "Hey, guys. Sorry to interrupt."

"Your timing was perfect," Bella replies, grinning slyly at me and Emmett.

Mike slings Jess's purse over his shoulder, cocking a hip. "So, what do you think? Dooney and Bourke should hire me to model, right?"

"Red is definitely your color, man," Emmett says, and gives him some complicated guy handshake. Say what you will about girls going to the bathroom in groups, I personally will never understand the handshakes.

Jess thrusts her gift at me. "You don't have to open it now, but it looks like you've opened all of your other ones, so if you want to..." she trails off uncertainly.

I run my finger along the perfectly folded paper; it's beautiful - purple with a subtle swirling pattern. I almost don't want to open it. "No, of course I'll open it now."

And when I do and I see what it is, I look back up at Jess, whose cheeks have gone pink. She looks even more unsure now, like she thinks it's wrong. But it's perfect. I cradle the photo album with one arm, running my hand over the butter-soft red leather, down to the "R" embossed in the right-hand corner.

"It's handmade. I ordered it on Etsy, actually," Jess says, throwing Alice a smile. She beams back. "And the pages are acid-free, which is supposed to be good for the photos or something."

I hug her tightly and then press the album to my chest, my eyes burning. "It's perfect. Thank you so much." She shrugs, but her smile is wide and relieved. When I look at Mike, I see that his is, too, although his gaze is directed at Jess. "I'm going to go put this in a safe spot."

I walk over to the present table, letting the conversation ebb and flow around me, cocooning me. I place the album next to a small stack of my other favorite gifts: the beautiful, delicate necklace Edward, Bella, Alice and Jasper all went in on, with a charm shaped like an old-fashioned camera hanging off the end of it; the funky fingerless gloves Alice knitted me ("as a statement piece only. No one actually needs gloves in California"); the beautiful vintage broach Gram gave me from her own collection, shaped like a rose. And, of course, Emmett's gift: the picture of us from the night of Homecoming, housed in a rose-gold frame that Bella and Alice must have helped him pick out, because it's stunning. Perfect in a way that even Emmett, amazing boyfriend that he is, couldn't have chosen.

I pick up my Nikon, nestled in just behind the pile of gifts. The neck straps goes over my head and I pull my hair, which I wore loose and straight, out from under it. The strap settles against my skin, comforting with its familiar weight.

When I turn back around, my friends are all standing a few feet away, talking and laughing. I step back and raise the camera to my eye, peering through the viewfinder. My finger finds the shutter release button blindly, settles in as I find the perfect shot. It's not hard; there are so many to choose from: Edward and Jasper bumping fists; Bella with her arm slung around Alice's shoulders, her cheek pressed against Alice's hair; Jess smacking Emmett's arm, her mouth open in a wide laugh. I look past them to my parents, who have joined Esme and Carlisle on the porch with Emmett's gram. She's seated next to my dad, her hands waving in the air animatedly. My mom is standing next to them, her hand resting on my dad's shoulder, a smile playing on her lips.

I take pictures of the sun filtering through the trees lining the backyard, too, because I want to remember them when I've gone. I want to remember the people, this place, what everything looks like right now, because I know this will be something I want to hold on to. These are the memories I want to capture.

And I know these will be the photos I place in the first pages of my album.

When I finally slide back into the spot next to Emmett, he looks first at my camera and then at me. I smile, closing my eyes as he leans down and places a kiss on the slope of my cheekbone.

"Happy?" he murmurs in my ear.

"So very," I confirm, looking up at him. He grins the soft smile I love best, with deep dimples and bright blue eyes.

After a few minutes, I see my mom step out onto the patio from the French doors that lead to the kitchen, carefully balancing a red and white cake. They're Stanford's colors, of course; they couldn't be prouder. In fact, my mom has already ordered some Stanford garb, including matching sweatshirts for her and my dad. I'm pretty sure it's the first sweatshirt she's owned in her life. They're so excited for this next part of my life to start, and I know it isn't just because I'm attending one of the best universities in the nation (although that definitely helps). I'm not surprised that the excitement has bled into the cake's decor.

"Oh, cake time!" Bella claps her hands and starts herding us toward the patio with everyone else. Nothing gets people moving like the promise of dessert, apparently.

I look sideways at Emmett, and he grins wickedly. "Don't say it," I warn, holding my hand up. He affects an innocent look, grabbing my hand and kissing my knuckles.

"Don't say what?" Jasper asks as he saunters next to us.

"I was just wondering if we're going to sing 'For She's a Jolly Good Fellow' or something," Emmett answers, squeezing my hand. I squeeze his back. There are still a few things that we can keep between us, like my texting faux pas from the beginning of the year. "I mean, what are you supposed to do for a graduation cake?"

Bella chimes in, "You could always do the ol' icing on the nose for good luck. I think that works with any type of cake, not just birthdays."

"Icing on the nose?" Jess asks, wrinkling her own. "What's that about?"

"Don't tell me you don't know about this time-honored tradition," Bella says, ditching Edward so she can walk next to Jess and explain the reasoning and logic. I hear Jess say "That's brilliant," which doesn't surprise me in the slightest. That type of thing is right up her alley. I'm sure she'll be adopting it, if for no other reason than it'll give her an excuse to smear people with icing.

My dad is beckoning to me from the table set up especially for the cake, with a proud father smile and impatient "hurry, hurry" hand motions. I hustle over to him, giving Emmett's hand a squeeze before I disengage, and go to stand between my parents. My mom wraps an arm around my waist.

"We're so proud of you, Rose," she says, beaming.

I'm proud, too. I've never felt truer than I do right now standing here. Last fall feels like a lifetime ago, and in a way, it was. I've come so far, and I know this is just the beginning.

"All right, show us what you've got," Dad says, picking up a knife and handing it to me. I take a deep breath and appraise the cake. It's huge, way too big for the amount of people we have to feed, although I know the boys do everything they can to put a major dent in it.

It occurs to me, as the knife hovers over one corner of it, that my future school's colors are the same as my past school's. It feels significant somehow, a reminder that, even in the midst of change, you can find familiar in the new.

I lift the knife and make the first cut into the cake, purposefully. _Diagonally_.

Mom speaks up. "Uh, sweetheart? What are you doing?"

There's a soft snort from across the table and I know who it is before I even make eye contact. Bella is smiling and when I meet Edward's gaze, he is, too. I look at Alice and Jasper, who gives me a surreptitious thumbs up. And then Emmett. He nods and grins, knowing what I'm going to do, what I'm going to say.

And so I smile, cutting into the cake again. "Whatever I want."

* * *

><p>We've loved writing this story, especially because it was with each other, and loved sharing it with all of you. The amount of appreciation we have for you wonderful readers is vast. Like, Grand Canyon big. Huge. We'd love to hear from you one last time so that we can thank you one-on-one, but for those of you who we don't get to talk to, thank you so much.<p>

Val, JD and Jan, we love you. That's the beginning and the end of it. Thank you doesn't even begin to cover it.

We believe that everything happens for a reason. While I (Mer) was at a craft fair today (supporting the local artisans), there was a booth for a Yorkie Rescue. If you're in the market for a dog, consider rescue, please. Check out saveayorkierescue(dot)org if you want an "Eric" to keep you company.

We'll be posting a future take on Wednesday as a separate story, so if you don't have us on author alert and want to read that, alert us! After that, we're going to close this chapter (pun!) of our writing lives and move on to other things.

Take care, dear friends!

PS - I love you, Snooder.

PPS - I love you, too, Snood.


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